Endeavour - Ava
by RiverM.Hathaway
Summary: The year is 1968. A spate of murders haunt the campuses of Oxford University once again. Endeavour and the team are on borrowed time to stop the killer, but this case only ends up challenging their personal and professional lives in a way none of them imagine... This fanfic is of screenplay style and episode length.


Endeavour - Ava

The sun shone from the dark clouds brightening things up after a morning of torrential rain. It was a Tuesday and gradually the students from one of the colleges emerged rather sleepily from the libraries and the lecture halls wandering around campus going from one place to the other. The ground was completely saturated with rain forming puddles. The grassy areas were a complete no go. A figure watched from the window at the students milling about outside, some still taking shelter under umbrellas, newspapers, books and some under their jackets or coats. Today was going to be a miserable day. The figure let go of the curtain and disappeared inside. Meanwhile, one student noticed the movements that took place above her. She was quaint in stature with mousy brown hair scooped up into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. Her fringe just scraped her eyebrows and she was trying to balance a set of books and a heavy looking bag on her shoulder. She took note of a pile of students rushing into a hall nearby and she cursed under her breath as she struggled to follow them in, just about making it in on time.

* * *

Win Thursday rushed out from the kitchen to the living room as the doorbell rang shrilly. She was in a blind panic trying to do too many things at once: her husband's lunch, the laundry, tidying up the breakfast table, the washing up. She tutted in slight annoyance as her policeman husband was still tidying himself up in front of the mirror in the corridor. The doorbell rang again and this time she wasn't having any of it.

"Answer that, will you!" she said irritably. "I've got my hands full!" Her husband finally noticed what was going on and opened the door.

"Morse! Come in!"

"Thank you," Morse replied politely. He closed the door behind him and as usual stood by the doorway. He watched closely as Win was still rushing about. He greeted her pleasantly and she turned.

"Morse," she said almost glad to see him. She was balancing crockery and Morse rushed forward to help. "Thank you." She smiled at him but gave her husband a glare. "I am terribly sorry for the mess." She picked up a paper sandwich bag and outstretched her hand. Morse suddenly felt extremely awkward as he felt he barged in on an obvious domestic. His superior took the bag and kissed his disgruntled wife on the cheek.

"Come on then!" he nearly ordered as he brushed past Morse and out the door. Morse looked at Win who looked like she was about to scream. He wished her a good day and followed him out the door.

"I don't want to talk about it!" Thursday grumbled before Morse had even a chance to start the car.

"I wasn't going to ask," he said in his usual calm demeanour. He took a glance at him and knew not to even make small talk when he was in this mood. He vowed secretly never to be like this when he gets to middle age as he pushed the gear into first and began to drive without a further word spoken.

* * *

The girl with the fringe and the ponytail was more than out of breath as she reached the top tier of the college building, and nearly collapsed as she tipped the contents of her arms on to a sofa near the door. Her lecture went as bad as she felt, and she had coursework up to her ears. She took a deep breath and picked up a glass of water that was already set on a table nearby. She wiped the excess water from her mouth with the side of her sleeve and opened a window wide so she could breathe in the rather damp air, which was bliss to her lungs. She didn't realise a presence suddenly turning up not far away from where she stood.

"Are you okay, Katie?" The girl turned sharpish only to smile in relief.

"Oh, it's you, Lucy," she said. "Sorry for the mess…"

"No need." The tone was kind with the type of dismissive way that made the young girl feel more comfortable. "I take it you got handed a whole load of work?" She tried not to laugh as she saw the look on her friend's face. "Well…you wanted to study theology…"

"I made a mistake!" Katie bit her lip as she saw the mirth on Lucy's face. She walked away from the window and sat down on a chair nearby. "No, seriously, I am glad you are my mentor."

"Happy to help." Lucy called from a short distance away. She came back in carrying a small tray. "Have some tea," she suggested kindly. "It will do you good."

"I'll be okay, thanks." Lucy shrugged and poured the hot liquid from a pretty pot into a small and beautifully decorated cup. She took it up carefully to her lips all the time watching Katie, particularly the distressed look on her face.

* * *

DCI Fred Thursday's mood was felt throughout the station as he stormed inside. He grunted at those who wished him a good morning and totally ignored Detective Sergeant Jim Strange and WPC Shirley Trewlove, who just happened to be passing. Morse, looking increasingly exasperated, followed on behind making sure he kept his distance. The young blonde and her detective colleague just looked at each other with the same awkwardness Morse felt at the house before she wished him luck and disappeared further down the corridor. Strange watched as Thursday stormed into his office slamming the door and Morse taking his seat at his desk, not liking how this day was beginning. He took a deep breath and breezed in with his bouncy pleasantness as if he didn't notice or chose not to.

Morse took his seat at his desk all the time aware that his superior's office was behind him and therefore was first in the firing line for a verbal bashing without warning. He looked up as Strange greeted him but said nothing as he opened and shut his desk drawer.

"You all right there, matey?" Strange asked. He glanced at Thursday through the window. "The guv got out of the wrong side of bed this morning?"

"You could put it that way," Morse replied still conscious that he may or may not be watched.

"Is he still smarting about Joanie?" Morse's eyes shot up and glared causing Strange to back off slightly. "Sorry…" His tone dropped to a whisper. He decided against any further conversation and walked to his desk. The look on Morse's face subsided only for his shoulders to back up as he heard Thursday's voice bellow from behind him. He caught sight of the worried look on Strange's face as he knocked on the door and walked inside.

"Close the door behind you," Thursday said. Morse did as was told and stood patiently by one of the cabinets. He went into observant mode again as he watched all his superior's movements. He could figure out that something more was bothering him this morning, not just his wife but his daughter… Or his son. Either or, he knew something was not right. Thursday looked up from his faffing about and realised Morse had his eyes on him. He told him to stop observing and take a seat in front of him.

"Is everything all right, sir?" Morse asked with concern.

"Joan…" Thursday suddenly said irritably. "If that idiot Strange brings her up one more time…"

"How is she, sir?" Morse went for broke. He had nothing to lose. It wasn't as if he didn't know already. Thursday sighed heavily and the grumpy look on his face vanished. Morse waited patiently and didn't put any pressure for him to answer. It was something Thursday admired him for – but it was also something that irritated the shit out of him.

"Joan is in Scotland."

"Scotland?!" Morse's voice rose slightly and his eyes widened. This wasn't the answer he was expecting. As far as he knew, what she told him that evening was that she was heading for another location. Once again, she swore him to secrecy and as always, Morse kept his word. Scotland though… Why?

"Why, sir?" he asked.

"Why does Joan do what she does? I don't know. Neither does her mother. That girl is making us both sick with worry. Ever since that bank job..." He gazed at a picture of his daughter on his desk.

"Where in Scotland, sir?"

"Somewhere in Glasgow," Thursday replied in some sort of disapproval. "Glasgow… The last place a young girl should be. God knows what she is doing or who she is with." He then shot a look at Morse. "She didn't tell you where, did she?"

"No, sir!" Morse was now on the defensive but knowing his bad form previously he also couldn't fault the reaction.

"You sure? I won't find a rogue piece of paper with an address on it?"

"No, sir!" Morse felt backed into a corner. It wasn't a feeling he liked nor did he want to it last. "She told me she was going to Manchester…"

"Manchester?!" Thursday now couldn't believe his ears. "What else did she tell you?" But he realised this wasn't worth causing friction with his protégé. "Well, that's it. She lied…to both of us. It's hardly worth even discussing." He suddenly shoved the picture face down as if he was washing his hands. Morse, still wondering why Joanie would screw them both again, but especially with him, was shocked at what he witnessed. The feelings he felt for her was still at the back of his mind, but this confused him. Why would she tell him one thing and her parents the other? Was she really in Manchester, in Glasgow or somewhere else? Would he try to find her again or forced himself to agree with Thursday that she wasn't worth it? The thoughts rang through his head: _How much does she matter to you, Morse? Do you still have feelings for her? Did she ever feel the same way or was she just playing you?_ He suddenly heard the echo of a voice calling him…

"MORSE!" Morse snapped out of his thoughts as the voice disappeared. He looked at Thursday.

"Sir?"

"Get back to work! And close the door on your way out!" Morse stood up and walked out to the stunned silence of his colleagues. The young sergeant said nothing as he took his seat and tried to look busy but was failing. Strange took a deep breath and plucked up the courage to walk towards him. Morse looked up upon hearing the footsteps and this caused Strange to retreat back to where he came from. Morse went back to his thoughts. He wondered why he was lied to like that by someone who once meant the world to him.

* * *

The muffled music of a club on the outskirts of the city was heard in the vicinity as youths piled in. Tuesday night was popular at this particular venue amongst the young kids of Oxford, the students especially. Girls in micro-minis, short dresses and knee-length boots with their high-volume hairstyles queued with their girlfriends to get in hoping for a good time and to leave with a beau on their arm. Likewise, for the guys all kitted out to the nines, their hair slicked back trying to look cool. Katie and a friend walked down the pavement all giggly and excited as they joined the queue. A group of lads noticed them and nudged each other wondering if this was going to be their lucky night. Katie looked up and caught the eye of a rather good looking lad. She nudged her friend who looked up and she giggled. The lad smiled at her before being let inside. He made sure he waited for her not far from the entrance, not wanting to let this opportunity go. He wouldn't have to wait for long...

Morning broke over Oxford and the weather greeted the city with bright sunshine. It began to gradually fill with people going to work, shopping or university. An alleyway with a small ditch at the edge of the city was vastly ignored by passers-by, not wanting to go down there as a shortcut or for various other reasons. A young lad decided to go against the majority as he was running late. His fast walking turned into a jog as time was against him. He then began to sprint and suddenly tripped nearly falling over. Presumably thinking he stumbled on a vagrant, he turned and opened his mouth to curse only to find it wasn't a vagrant after all but rather an outstretched arm.

An arm which was attached to a body…

A body whose recipient had mousy brown hair…

* * *

The sound of the camera shutters went off in quick succession as the police photographer began to take pictures of the poor victim's body at various angles. A small crowd had gathered in front of the uniformed cordon, gossiping and trying to arch their necks to get a good look. Morse and Thursday arrived at the scene. The younger of the two suddenly stopped in his tracks as he came over all queasy. The portly figure of the pathologist, Max de Bryn, slowly got up from his position to meet Thursday. He took note of the waif figure of Morse standing nearby against a wall with his head to the side and tutted.

"Well, by the looks of things we have an unfortunate case of strangulation," he began. "Young girl in her late teens, early twenties. I am assuming the time of death to be sometime last night." He paused to give his photographer more instructions. "I won't know more until I get her on that slab of course…" He stopped again to take another look at Morse, who this time ventured to look at the direction of the scene. His eyes turned to Thursday and discreetly rolled his eyes. "Aren't you going to take a look, Morse?"

"Erm… No thanks," he replied. He looked up suddenly as the pretty figure of Trewlove walked past him. Straight away, she crouched down at the body showing no fear at all, and noticed something.

"Sir?" she said directly to Thursday.

"Yes, WPC Trewlove, what have you found?" He crouched down next to her as the uniformed officer uncovered what looked like a piece of paper under the victim's torso. Morse now became attentive as he plucked up the courage to come closer. Thursday stood up to look at what was written.

"'Miss C. Cruickshank, 17 Commercial Road, London'," he read. He handed the paper to Morse who by now was standing not far away from him.

"Victim's address, sir?" he asked.

"Possibly. Give this to Strange and get him to find out…"

"Sir!" Trewlove again noticed something. "Look at this." Thursday turned over the body's left hand and noticed a huge red mark and a bigger scratch around one of the fingers. Max de Bryn inspected them carefully.

"Hmm… Interesting," he mused. "There is some debris under her fingernails, too." He jotted his initial findings on his clipboard he was carrying. "Thank you, young lady. This will give me more to ponder on."

"Well done, Trewlove," Thursday said. Trewlove flashed her smile she gave when she was given praise. Morse however was now in thoughtful mode as he looked again at the piece of paper, more for the style of writing than anything else.

"Calligraphy," he pondered. "The pen used. A quill?"

"Fountain pen, perhaps?" Thursday suggested looking up at his junior officer, but the look on Morse's face told him something else.

"I'll let you know of my findings," de Bryn said standing up and beckoning the waiting officers to cover the body to take to the van. "Gentlemen… Miss." He walked away ready to get to work almost immediately. Trewlove walked over to Morse, who was staring at where the body was as if he wanted to now do some detective work of his own.

"Something on your mind?" she asked politely. Morse said nothing however and walked the few more steps towards the crime scene. He looked further inside the area where the body was found and noticed that something was not right.

"Where is the boy that found her?" he asked suddenly. Trewlove pointed ahead.

"Right over there with Sergeant Strange," she replied.

"Did he say anything about where he found the body, what he was doing?"

"No," Trewlove answered. She watched as Morse walked away. Her face fell a bit in disappointment.

Morse approached the two figures by the side of a wall and noticed the shocked and shaken figure of the lad, who by now looked like he was going to cry for his mother. Strange was standing beside him with his pocket notebook and a pen in his hands, having already jotted down as much as the lad was prepared to tell him. Morse took a quick glance at the few lines that were written before reaching into his coat pocket to take out his warrant card.

"Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley Police," he introduced himself. "And you are…?"

"Malcolm," he replied shakily. "Malcolm Rothschild." He was barely 16, Morse thought. His dark blond head was by now a dishevelled mess as was his grey suit, which Morse probably knew was bought on his parents' weekly wage. His mother will probably kill him first verbally. Kill him and then hug him in relief that he was safe. Morse then thought about his own mother very briefly before getting back to the task in hand.

"Could you tell me what happened?" he asked.

"I was running," the lad replied struggling to speak. "I was late…"

"Work placement," Strange interrupted. "College bursary." Morse glanced at him.

"What time was this?" he asked.

"Er… Half-past eight," Malcolm said. "I remember because I heard the clock chime and I knew the bursar was going to kill me if I wasn't there by quarter-to." He tried not to burst into tears again. "I thought it was a homeless person…" He trailed off and glanced at where he initially found the body. "She was just lying there... Am I going to be in trouble?" Morse took note he was pleading but shook his head.

"We may need to speak to you again. If you can please leave your address with the sergeant here? Thank you for your help." He walked away only to turn back. "Which college did you say you were going to?"

"Beaumont," was the reply. "Oh, God, I am in serious trouble!" The lad burst into tears suddenly leaving Strange to pick up the pieces. Morse again passed the entrance to the ditch and once again paused to take another look. He made a mental note to revisit of his own accord when the time arose.

* * *

The rain splattered on the window and the water trickled down splashing on the ledge en route to the ground below. Once again, the weather turned and the students ran for cover. The muffled chimes of a bell rung the hour in and Lucy walked out of an office locking the door behind her. She walked down the spiral staircase and down a hallway, saying hello to the porter who stuck his neck out of his window to greet her back. She didn't notice the dirty look he gave her in return as she opened her umbrella in the doorway and disappeared. The small clicks of her heels made dull sounds down the empty grounds as she made her way to a bright brick building nearby. She paused to knock on the door and waited patiently to be answered. The door creaked open a little and she stepped inside, shaking and closing her umbrella before closing the door.

She left it leaning against a wall and walked down a long and uninspiring corridor, the sound of her heels echoed deafeningly bouncing off the walls. She was following a familiar path as if all the corridors of the Oxford colleges were the same. But there was something different about this building, the way the corridors turned and twisted, that this was only open to certain people, the privileged and the gifted. By invitation only? The sound of her heels stopped abruptly as she reached another closed door. She raised her hand to knock only for the door to open suddenly, giving her a slight fright. She took a deep breath and stepped in, the door suddenly closing behind her with a huge bang.

* * *

Morse sat down at his desk back at the station to again take another look at the piece of paper Thursday had given him at the crime scene. The more he studied it, the more the style was familiar as if he had seen it somewhere before. Was it a quill that was used or a fountain pen as Thursday suggested? It was a pro job, like it was written by someone who did this for a living. What intrigued him more was why the address of the girl was significant, if it indeed was her address. _Commercial Road, London… East London? Or was that Commercial Street? East London… Thursday's old patch? Why write in that style? Surely a bog standard ball point would do..._

"Cup of tea, matey?" Morse hated it when his thoughts were interrupted, especially by Strange who was succeeding in annoying him. He looked up and shook his head politely expecting him to disappear. But when he didn't budge, the feelings became obvious to see. Strange chose to ignore it, as he normally does, such as was his admiration for Morse he regarded him as his best friend. "That piece of paper bugging you, is it?"

"'Commercial Road, London'," Morse read again.

"What about it?" Strange found this to be fun somewhat, like a guessing game. He watched as Morse stood up and walked towards a filing cabinet at the other end of the room. He fished out what looked like a street atlas. He seated himself in front of a vacant desk and looked at the index at the back, his finger following down the list of street names only to push the book back almost immediately. The chair he was sitting on scraped back with a sharp sound as he stood up, and he walked to Thursday's office knocking on the door and going in, ignoring Strange completely, who couldn't help being hurt by the way he was brushed aside.

Thursday looked up at Morse as he put the phone down. His picture of Joanie was still face down in front of him. He took note of the impatient look on his junior officer's face and sat back in his chair.

"Morse?" he said giving him the prompt he needed.

"Commercial Road," Morse began, walking forward.

"What about it?" Thursday asked. "The address found on the victim?"

"Yes. Can you tell me more about it?"

"What is there to tell?" Thursday replied. "It is smack bang of the East End…"

"I know that, sir, but _what_ can you tell me about it?"

"You mean if there is gangland warfare? It's the East End, Morse. Gangs exist everywhere." He paused. "Our victim… A gangland hit, you think?"

"I don't know," Morse replied. "If it was, then why the calligraphy and why the hit here in Oxford? It doesn't add up."

"Until we know who this Cruickshank person is, then we can only brainstorm. Come in!" Morse turned as the door opened a touch.

"Report ready, sir." Thursday acknowledged the officer's message and stood up grabbing his hat from the stand.

"Max?" Morse asked and got a nod of the head in return. He followed Thursday out and down the corridor. Strange, now sulking sadly from his desk, looked up as Morse poked his head round the door. "Strange, that address. See if you can find any bars or clubs in that area."

"What about local businesses?" Strange now felt important to the case.

"You can do. See if there are any with the name Cruickshank or anything related to that name." He disappeared again. Strange set to work with a huge grin, always knowing that Morse would need him eventually.

* * *

"Ah! Morse! Thursday!" Max de Bryn looked up from his clipboard. Morse looked around pathology. He absolutely hated the place! It stunk of chemicals and the stench of dead bodies. It made him feel ill, and he hoped this report will be over quickly so he could get the hell out of there. The covered body of the victim was displayed out on the slab. She looked very peaceful but had a story to tell. Thursday took one look at the girl with a regrettable look, and waited for de Bryn to start. Morse meanwhile seemed to be keeping time. "It will all be over soon, Morse, don't you worry." He walked past Thursday who tried to keep a straight face. "Right… Victim is around 18 or 19; healthy. Liver is in a good state for someone of her age as is her heart and lungs." It was like he was doing it deliberately to poor Morse, who was beginning to show signs of struggle. "Cause of death is what I thought – strangulation. Poor girl fought back but didn't stand a chance."

"What about the marks on her hand?" Morse asked. De Bryn looked at him.

"That is what isn't clear." He raised the victim's hand in question. "You see this mark here?" He pointed to a cleaned up cut between the ring and middle finger. "It isn't in line with the cause of death. She was strangled, but her struggle doesn't collaborate with the wound. The debris under her fingernails certainly confirms it."

"You mean something happened before?"

"That is what you need to figure out." De Bryn looked at Morse, who by now seemed more perplexed. "What may help you is the bruising on the finger. It seems like something was torn from it."

"Like a ring?"

"Perhaps. Again, I cannot comment. Your young girl here was a victim of something else before her death." Morse glanced at Thursday before plucking up the courage to take a good, strong look at the victim. The need to find her identity grew stronger, and he hoped Strange managed to find at least one lead.

* * *

"We need to put out a missing person's notice," Thursday said to Morse, their steps gathering momentum as they paced down the corridor towards the exit. "Speak to The Mail. Ask Ms Frazil if she has received any leads from that front page item. The sooner we know who she is the better."

"What about Strange?" Morse asked. "He is looking for London leads on this Cruickshank name."

"You leave him to me," Thursday said. "Our main focus for now is finding out who she is. That name may be a red herring. You go on ahead, Morse. I will meet you back at the station."

"Yes, sir." Morse replied as they both went their separate ways. He placed the key in the lock and opened the car door when his name was called. He looked up and saw a familiar uniformed figure run towards him. He watched as she looked both ways before running across the road to meet him. This was someone he had only seen once before and that was after a very long time.

"Monica," he greeted. "How are you?"

"I cannot stay long," she said slightly out of breath. She took something out of her pocket. "I noticed you are on the case of that dead girl you found in that alleyway. I snuck this from her effects, but it hasn't been logged. If Doctor de Bryn finds out I am more than transferred." She placed a small plastic wallet in his hand. Morse took one look at it. "It may not be much," she continued. "But it may help." She was short and final, and Morse said nothing as she ran back across the road and into the hospital building. He placed the item into his coat pocket before getting into the car and driving off.

* * *

Lucy ran away from the building she just vacated and across the campus, going down an archway and out into the city centre. She looked from left to right and right to left before choosing the latter, and sprinted as fast as she could. The rain whipped her dark hair about and shot across her face. She had forgotten her umbrella, but she didn't care. Her face lit up as she saw what looked like a coffee shop across the street in the distance and ran towards it, hoping to God it was open. Unfortunately, she was to be disappointed. Lucy burst into tears and sunk down the wall to the ground, the rain getting heavier and heavier. She didn't realise a pair of smart black shoes walk towards her settling on the kerb in front of her. She looked up and saw an outstretched hand, taking it. The figure pulled her up, opening a huge umbrella.

"Come on," she was told gently. "Let's get you back to campus." Lucy had no choice but to nod and let the figure guide her away and back across the road.

* * *

Win Thursday set down her husband's dinner on the table and settled down to eat alongside him. No words were spoken – just the clutter of cutlery to plate and glass to table. The only conversation that would come up was either work or Joanie and neither made great dinner time catch up. The gentle _tick tock_ of the clock on the mantelpiece added to the break in silence, but the tension was there all to see and feel. Win looked at her husband wanting to say something, but also knew that it would only lead to argument. She didn't care however and slammed down her glass on the table. Thursday was aware of it but decided to let it pass.

"So, this is it, huh? Our daughter has disappeared to Glasgow and you refuse to do anything?!"

"Not now, Win." Thursday didn't want his lovely dinner to be interrupted. She had made a lovely meal and he was enjoying every morsel.

"Not now? When, Fred? Huh? When she is laying on a slab somewhere like that poor girl that was found recently…"

"I told you not now, Win!" Thursday raised his voice. He tried not to lose his temper. Win started to sob quietly.

"I miss my baby," she whispered. "Bring her home! I want my baby home!" The doorbell suddenly rang, and Thursday left to answer. The sound of Morse's voice forced Win to wipe the tears away from her eyes. She took a deep breath ready to put on fake pleasantries when he walked in. "Morse!" She smiled and stood up to greet him.

"Good evening, Mrs Thursday. Sorry to intrude."

"Don't be silly, Morse. It is good to see you. Would you like something to eat?"

"No thank you, Mrs Thursday…"

"Now, come on. It is no bother. You look like you need a good meal after your long day." Morse blushed and couldn't refuse the invitation. Win excused herself to set an extra place at the table whilst Thursday gave him a glass of Scotch.

"Take a seat, Morse."

"Thank you, sir. I went to The Mail offices, but Ms Frazil wasn't there. I did however leave a message for her to call back tomorrow." He wanted to get to the information Monica gave him only to be distracted by a sudden smash of crockery from the kitchen followed by a wail. Morse noticed a picture of Joanie on the mantelpiece, and it didn't take long for him to realise that it was the wrong time. "I'd better get going," he said standing up.

"Now, there is no need." Thursday reassured him. "You stay there." He walked into the kitchen only for more crashing to be heard, and Win crying out again for her daughter. Morse quickly drank down the last of his drink and grabbed his coat from the chair beside him. He quietly slipped out leaving his Inspector and his wife to start arguing over Joanie. As he got into the car, he took another look at the gate and imagined Joanie standing there waving him off. The more he thought, the more his mind decided to play tricks on him, and he saw she actually _was_ there, all pretty and bouncy with her long dark hair tied up smartly wearing a turtle neck jumper and mini skirt. Morse's eyes dropped slightly knowing it was just wishful thinking and turned the key in the ignition. He wondered if he would ever see her again as he shoved the gear into first and slowly drove off down the road.

* * *

Morse took a small sip of his glass of Scotch as he decided to take a look at what Monica gave him earlier that day. He was listening to a classical album on the turntable, the dim lights from the lamps in the living room giving a dark amber glow. Morse took the documents from the wallet and opened them to take a look. There were a few bits of paper that looked like it had seen better days, but there was one particular document that caught his attention. It was folded more than once so it could fit snug in the wallet, although Morse noticed additional creases which gave the impression this was one of many attempts to fit, like the glass slipper in _Cinderella_. As Morse smoothed the document out on to the table it became apparent that it was a poster size of a map of the world, the kind used in geography classes at school. The other documents didn't give him much to go on at first glance, just faded scribble.

Morse leaned back in his chair, wondering what this meant, if anything. This grew stranger by the minute. First the body, then the address, then the unexplained marks on the victim's hand and now this – what was the victim doing with a map and a few ineligible bits of paper? Was she a student or a trainee teacher? Maybe she liked to keep the map on her wall for reference? So many questions and not one single answer. Suddenly something caught his eye: a little red dot on one section of the map as if it was some sort of marker. Morse stood up and headed straight for one of the drawers on a nearby table. He took out a magnifying glass, ironic he thought being a detective, and went back to take a good look. There it was – a mark over one country, marked plainly with a red ball point. But why, and why that country in particular? Morse's eyebrows narrowed as this just made things even more peculiar. He tapped his fingers on the map and took another sip of his drink. He would not be going to bed anytime soon.

* * *

A huge flash of lightning and a huge rumble of thunder came over the skies of Oxford and once again, after a brief respite, the rain came down. It once again forced the students to stay indoors. In one particular building, the muffled sounds of banging, crashing, screaming and arguing came from one window. Then suddenly, just as quickly as it started up, there was silence. Another huge flash of lightning lit up the skies followed by an even louder rumble of thunder, and the muffled voice of a female was now heard pleading… Pleading desperately. The rain got heavier as did the pleading, and just as another huge flash of lightning engulfed the city, shards of glass suddenly broke from the window as a body plummeted downwards hitting the wet ground with a thud. As the thunder rumbled and the rain teemed down, blood seeped from the head and the opened eyes of the body, turning the water red. A porter came rushing out from his station under an archway nearby, and what met him nearly sent him into shock. He took one look at the body and ran back to raise the alarm.

* * *

Morse and Thursday ran inside the campus through the archway towards the body, which was covered by a police tent for privacy to hopefully keep any further evidence from washing away. DS Strange was speaking to a by now shaken porter jotting down any information he was given. Thursday and Morse ran for the shelter of the tent, although the younger decided to stay inside by the entrance. Max de Bryn shook his head slowly as he gave the body a quick once over; and by the look on his face the prognosis wasn't going to be good.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I didn't think I was going to clap eyes on the both of you again this quickly." He grimly looked once more at the victim's face and stood up. "Whoever did this knew the weather was going to worsen."

"Any idea of who she is?" Morse asked. His eyes were a little strained from studying that map for the past couple of hours.

"You have a female. Aged roughly late teens to early twenties. I don't have to tell you she was pushed out from that broken window above." He paused. "Gentlemen, from what I can see, this will not be easy to decipher."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at these shards of glass all over her face. Obvious cause of death is a severe trauma to the head. This rain has washed any evidence that may be of use to you both." He began to pack up. "Whoever did this was aware of the fact. I will have your report ready tomorrow morning." As he walked outside, Morse took a few steps towards the body and stood by her black shoed feet. He studied the way the state of the broken body was positioned and tilted his head to the side, away with his thoughts. Thursday watched him and enquired as to what was on his mind.

"What is on your mind, Morse?" Now it was his turn to wait patiently.

"The body, the way it is positioned."

"What about it?" He watched as Morse took a few steps back so he can observe the whole length of the body. He again tilted his head to the side before answering.

"See how the body is slightly forward with the legs bent at the knee?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't it seem odd that someone who was pushed from a window, presumably backwards, would land in such a… specific way?"

Thursday now stood next to Morse to have a look himself. He did think that he probably had a point. Strange suddenly poked his head inside the tent, and the two officers looked in his direction.

"Sorry, sir, but I think you may have to hear what the porter has to say."

"All right, give me five minutes." Thursday took one more look at the body and glanced at Morse who hadn't budged. It took two calls of his name for him to respond. "Go up there and see what you can find. Hopefully the porter will be able to put a name to the face." As Thursday left the tent, Morse crouched down by the body. He had another hunch, just a small one, but he needed to cover as much bases as possible. He reached over to take a look at the victim's left hand, but to his slight annoyance found nothing. Not a scratch, a mark. Not even any bits of paper lying about.

"I did say you wouldn't find anything of value, Morse." He looked up to find Max de Bryn standing by the entrance. "I think you are needed upstairs, and I have to get this young lady here to my cave." Morse reached over and gently closed the girl's eyes before standing up to let Max and his people get on with the job. He watched as the body was carefully lifted into the bag before leaving. He looked up to where the victim met her death. The light was on, and the sounds of shuffling and voices were clearly heard. He looked to the archway and saw Thursday and Strange talking to the porter, who was pointing in the direction of where the body landed, presumably explaining what he found with perhaps an ID? He looked up again, noticing a familiar silhouette by the window, before walking inside.

* * *

Morse slowly walked up the steps and entered the room, which unsurprisingly was a complete mess. Papers, furniture and other objects were strewn all over the floor. The forensics team were already at work along with the photographer. Trewlove, looking for evidence herself along with her colleagues, caught sight of Morse standing by the doorway surveying everything in front of him. He walked over to the big upturned desk and began looking around that area.

"What did Doctor de Bryn say?" she asked. "Morse?" Morse however said nothing. He was too engrossed trying to find something, anything that could perhaps link the two murders together.

"A map…" Morse suddenly said, absolutely fixated on what he left behind at his flat.

"A map of what?" Trewlove stood beside him. She smiled as he finally looked at her.

"Be careful," he told her gently. "There is broken glass everywhere." Trewlove tried not to blush as she heard his words. Morse crouched down suddenly noticing something. He took his pen from his coat to sift through some fallen papers near a cabinet, lifting one to flip it over to have a look. It was a folder that looked like part of a huge project. "'Lucy Leyton'," he read quietly. "'PhD'."

"Sir!" Morse looked up in the direction the voice was coming from. A uniformed officer ran out of a room, the look on his face completely ashen. "I think you should see this." He and Trewlove glanced at each other and followed the officer inside. What met them was something unseen before, something horrific like a scene from a Hammer horror film. For the first time, Trewlove covered her mouth and couldn't look much longer. Morse stared at the wall in front of him.

"Get DCI Thursday up here!" he ordered. "WPC Trewlove!"

"Yes, sir." She was only too happy to leave. Morse stepped back to take a good look. The wall in front of him was splattered in red with a message written in script plain to see. He stood stock still.

"Take a picture," he heard Thursday suddenly, telling the photographer to get a move on. "I want no stone unturned!" he barked at the forensics team. He looked at Morse, who was studying the lettering on the wall. "Morse?" he asked but didn't get a response. Instead, Morse squinted slightly at the lettering trying to figure out if he had seen it before. "I want all the papers on the floor bagged and sent over!" he heard Thursday instructing the officers. "I want every bit of material, cup, saucer; anything on this floor analysed and reported back at soon as possible!" He saw a rather out of breath Strange turn up in the doorway. "Strange, who is the Master of this campus?"

"Dorchester-Baynes, sir."

"I want his details. Even if he is off site, you inform him a murder has taken place and I will want a word."

"Yes, sir."

Thursday walked back inside the room and again asked Morse what he was thinking. But again, he didn't receive an answer. Instead Morse jotted down some notes.

"I will need a copy," he eventually told the photographer. "As soon as possible, please." He moved aside as the flash and shutter went off. He took a look at Thursday, who was still awaiting an answer. "The script," he replied. "It looks familiar."

"Have you seen it before somewhere?"

"I don't know. I can't put my finger on it." He paused. But before he could continue, they heard shouting outside, the voices coming from the broken window. A uniformed officer bounded in requesting help. They followed him out and down the stairs, and saw a young girl, soaked to the skin, trying to force her way through two officers outside. She was screaming her protests and frustration over the sound of the rain, which wasn't helping matters.

"You don't understand. I _have_ to get up there!" she begged.

"And I will tell you again, miss, you can't!" one officer repeated. He and his colleague tightened their barrier stopping the girl from pushing through once again.

"What is going on?" Thursday asked as he and Morse appeared, the rain wasting no time in saturating their clothing.

"I need to go up there!" The girl was stubborn as she was persistent.

"As the officers told you, you cannot. It is a crime scene. No one is allowed up there."

"But you don't understand…" The girl looked at Thursday in desperation.

"Hold on," Morse said thinking he could diffuse the situation with calm. "Miss…?" But she didn't answer. Instead she took a look at Morse but then decided to try and barge through again. "Miss," Morse tried again, "the Inspector and these officers have told you this is a crime scene. You cannot just go up there." His gentle tone did the trick as it seemed to calm the young girl somewhat. "My name is Morse," he said. "Detective…Sergeant…Morse…" He was suddenly struck by the girl's features. She looked into his eyes and her whole body sank.

"Please!" she pleaded. "Lucy… She was…"

"Lucy? Lucy Leyton?" Morse suddenly grew impatient. "Do you know Lucy Leyton?"

"Morse!" Thursday interjected in warning. The rain gradually got heavier and fell down the girl's face. She and Morse just continued to look at each other. "Do you live on campus, miss?" But just like Morse beforehand, Thursday didn't receive an answer. Instead she glanced at him, then up at the window and ran off.

"Wait!" Morse called back.

"Bodleian!" came the reply. Morse was about to give chase, but Thursday stopped him.

"Let her go," he told him. "Just let her go. If she works here, we will find out." Morse watched as the girl disappeared and kicked some wet stones in anger. "Go home," he advised. "There is nothing more you can do here…"

"But she knows who the victim is!"

"And we can go down that road in the morning. Go home, get dry and get some sleep, Morse." The tone of Thursday's voice was final. Morse, looking like he was going to catch his death by now, couldn't believe he was dismissed in that way. He knew it was pointless to argue and walked angrily away. Thursday watched as he disappeared down the archway, knowing he was doing this for Morse's own good. The sound of an officer calling him got his attention. He ran over and back inside the building.

* * *

Morse stormed inside his flat and slammed the door. He was angry, annoyed, frustrated. How _dare_ Thursday dismiss him like that and in such an uncaring fashion! Didn't his input matter anymore? His enthusiasm for the job? He angrily took off his coat, and he kicked himself for not running after her. He knew she knew something and she wanted to tell him. Was it about Lucy? What made her so determined to go inside the building? Was there something she wanted? Was she working for somebody? Was she directly or indirectly involved? Morse grew angrier by the second until he remembered the last thing she said:

"Bodleian…" he said to himself quietly. What is it about that library that was significant? He then sneezed heavily and realised how soaked he was. He reluctantly walked to his bedroom to dry himself off, and walked back into the living room wearing a tracksuit with a towel draped over the back of his neck. His thoughts then went back to the map, and he switched the lampshades on once again sending the room from pitch black to a familiar amber glow. He turned the turntable on and the opening bars of his favourite Aria filled the room. He then grabbed the glass he was using before he had to leave and sat down by the map ready to take another look. It wasn't to last very long however as sleep suddenly took over. He slouched back in the chair as his eyes closed, his stubbornness finally defeated...

The loud and persistent knocking on the front door made Morse suddenly sit up. He squinted as the bright sunlight shone through the window. Morse groaned as he felt the stiffness of his body from the dodgy position he fell asleep in, and slowly stood up. He must have looked a right state judging from the rather amused look on Thursday's face as he opened the door.

"Morning, Morse," he said.

"Huh?" Morse was still very much half-asleep. He just stared at Thursday, not making a move. "Sir? What time is it?"

"8am. Get showered and dressed! We have a meeting with Bright."

"Oh…" Morse still didn't register what was said to him. He dragged himself back inside.

"Hurry up!" Thursday called out in amusement, nearly laughing as he saw Morse nearly trip up on something. He shook his head slowly and continued to wait for him outside.

* * *

Chief Superintendent Reginald Bright was an old school type of policeman, a disciplinarian of sorts. He was bespectacled and always in uniform. A war veteran, he sometimes used his experience in his work by sharing stories of his adventures whether it was relevant or not He was bigger in reputation than his height suggested, but despite this, he tried to be fair in his assumptions. He was found to be standing by his office window, a cup of tea in his hand, musing about what was going on in the outside world… Courtesy of the station car park. He turned his head upon hearing the door knock and acknowledged his secretary before Morse and Thursday walked in. Bright settled his cup and saucer on his desk and waited for his two detectives to settle themselves down. He knew they would prefer to stand so he didn't offer them a seat. He took a look at Morse, who was in a slightly better shape than Thursday witnessed only a short time ago, but he couldn't help but notice he wasn't as neat as he could be. However, he chose to overlook it this time round.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he greeted. "I hear you found another body last night at the university?"

"Yes, sir," Thursday replied.

"Any link to the first one? Any leads?"

"No, sir…" Thursday trailed off to look at Morse who was still near enough half-asleep. He discreetly kicked him on the ankle. Morse woke up a little bit and looked at his superior who was nodding towards Bright as a silent hint. Morse cleared his throat and opened up his notepad.

"We put in a missing person's notice with Ms Frazil at The Mail," he began. "So far, all we have to go on with the first body is an address in London. Other than that - a complete blank."

"And the second body?"

"We think that might be directly linked to the university." Morse was in full mode now. "I came across a name of Lucy Leyton."

"Lucy Leyton…" Bright now was deep in thought.

"She had a doctorate," Morse continued. "I found a folder in amongst the mess in the room."

"The campus where you found the body. The Master is Dorchester-Baynes?"

"Yes, sir…"

"Then that would be theology. I seem to recall meeting him a long time ago. Very particular in the way his students go about their essays." He looked directly at Morse. " _Had,_ did you say? Have you already identified the body…?"

"Not yet," Thursday interjected stopping Morse from saying too much at this stage. Morse instantly looked at his superior accusingly as if he decided to carry on from the night before. "We are still waiting for Doctor de Bryn's report."

"I see…" Bright was deep in thought now. He was tapping his index finger on his cheek. "Any other evidence?"

"Not yet, no." Now Morse was pissed off at once again being interrupted. He wondered why Thursday even bothered to ask him along. "We will be going to see Dorchester-Baynes as soon as he comes back from his conference."

"Okay, good. Keep me informed. The sooner we identify the two bodies, the better. If both are related to the university, we need to wrap this up soon otherwise we will have a huge parental revolt on our hands." He dismissed the detectives with a nod of the head. Once they had gone, Bright picked up the phone to call his secretary to dial a number for him. He didn't like the sound of this, not one bit. "Good morning, this is Chief Superintendent Bright of Thames Valley Police," he spoke to the person on the other end. "I was wondering if I can speak to Richard Dorchester-Baynes, please. Yes, I'll hold." He took a sip of his now tepid cup of tea. "Richard! Reginald here! Yes, it has been a while. How are you? You back on campus?" He smiled and nodded as he heard the reply. "Good. Listen, old boy, I was wondering if we can finally meet for lunch? Yes, today will be grand. You name the place… Okay, yes that sounds splendid! See you then." He placed the receiver back on its cradle and took another sip of his tea, all the time thinking if he was indeed doing the right thing.

* * *

The sound of Morse and Thursday arguing down the corridor caught Strange's attention, making him look up from his desk. The voices grew louder and more aggressive as they walked into the office, and straight away he put his head down studying a folder in front of him. He sneaked a quick look as both Morse and Thursday stormed inside the latter's office, the door slamming and the muffled sounds of their voices coming from the thin windows. Not long after, Morse stormed back out, the door of the office crashing into the wall. Thursday followed him screaming at him to come back. Morse turned sharply.

"I'm going to the university," he told him. "I am going to find this girl. If you don't want to pursue this, then I will!"

"You dare undermine my authority, Morse!" But Morse ignored him as he left. Thursday was fuming. He couldn't believe the attitude Morse was showing of late. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Sir…" Strange called out. "Sir?"

"WHAT!" Thursday shouted. "Spit it out, Strange!"

"That was pathology," Strange replied with one hand over the receiver he was holding. "De Bryn has finished the report for the second victim." He cowered slightly upon seeing the look on Thursday's face.

"Well get a move on then!" he barked. "And take the squad car!" He thundered off leaving Strange lagging far behind. He quickly gathered up his coat and bumbled out the door.

* * *

The bell rung as it hit the hour. Morse stopped outside the university campus, parking the car not far away. He caught a sudden gust of wind as he disembarked, and pulled his coat tighter around him as he walked through the archway. As he came out from the other side, he noticed the police cordon still surrounding the entrance to the building. A few uniformed officers were standing guard, and the sounds of movement were heard from inside where the window once stood. Morse looked around for a quicker way to the Bodleian, but such as he knew his way round, there was only one way he could go. He made his way across the grounds, taking in the now subdued atmosphere until he reached the famous library with its statue of the Earl of Pembroke guarding the entrance outside. Morse knew where he was going, having been there before. He passed by a few students on his way, the look on their faces apprehensive. Morse couldn't blame them considering the events of late and this made him more determined to solve this case – with or without Thursday's help. He walked into a room that was full of rows upon rows of bookcases, the smell of the books filling the air. Morse looked around for someone. He noticed her by a trolley placing some textbooks on a shelf.

"Hello, Helen." The middle aged red head turned, and she smiled at Morse warmly.

"Well, if it isn't Pagan!" she greeted pleasantly, but not loud enough to be heard by the other students. Morse cringed, absolutely hating his old college nickname. Helen chuckled and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said with a smile. "I forgot how much that name fills you with dread."

Morse didn't reply, but he couldn't hold it against her for too long. "I need your help."

"I can only try." She pushed the trolley further along. "What can I do for you?"

"You obviously know about the death that happened last night…"

"Oh, yes," Helen commented regrettably. "The poor girl."

"I was wondering if you can help me with a name. Two actually…" He stopped as Helen turned to face him. She was your stereotypical librarian with the skirt, jumper, and hair tied neatly at the back of her head. She even had the rimmed glasses with the accessorised cord dangling from the back of her neck. Morse had the upmost respect for her and always knew he could go to her if he needed specific help. Helen smiled warmly again and continued on her way.

"What names would that be?" she asked.

"Lucy Leyton is one."

"And the other?"

"That is what I need help with. You see, she was at the scene yesterday, but she didn't give her name. I think she may know who the victim is."

"Oh, does she indeed?" Helen reached up to put a book back in its place.

"Can you help me?" Morse asked again, a little desperation in his voice. "I don't know her name. She ran off before I could ask. The only thing she said to me was this place."

"What does this person look like?" Helen took some more books down off another shelf and walked on. Morse took a few big steps forward to keep up.

"She has dark, shoulder length hair and dark eyes," he replied. "Quite short."

"That could be any young girl here," Helen stated kindly. "You have to give me more to go on."

"She was well spoken, although there was a hint of an accent in her voice." Helen stopped walking and blinked hard, the look on her face saying it all. Morse waited patiently for an answer. "Helen?" he called eventually. He watched as she went back on her way.

"I'll see what I can do," she told him. She stopped suddenly and turned. "You were always such a model student," she said sadly only to smile again. "Come! Let's get ourselves a cup of tea." She left her trolley of books behind, and Morse followed her. They went down a spiral staircase and down a dimly lit corridor into a small kitchenette. Morse sat down at a small table in the corner whilst Helen filled the kettle up with water.

Morse looked around the small room and smiled remembering the late-night chats he and Helen used to have when he was a student. It was all done on the hush of course: Morse had trouble sleeping some nights and Helen was the first one to arrive extremely early, sometimes two to three hours early, so she can sort out the library before opening up. He looked at her as a second mother of sorts – she was always there for a shoulder to lean on, even if all he wanted was to vent his frustrations. A tin of biscuits was placed in front of him. Helen winked as she carried on making the tea.

"I always remember your favourites," she said like a mother hen. Morse blushed slightly as he picked out one and bit into it. "Now! Lucy Leyton." She placed a mug of steaming tea in front of him and sat down. "Theology student. Very bright. She was well beyond her years. Not dissimilar to you."

Morse started jotting down the information on his notepad. "I found one of her folders in her room," he said. "Is she a doctor?"

"Very beyond her years as I said. Yes, she obtained her doctorate."

"But the university doesn't offer doctorates for just theology," Morse pointed out. Helen smiled.

"That is correct," she said. "Oxford only awards doctorates in philosophy. I am glad police work hasn't made you forget." Again, Morse blushed and Helen chuckled. "Dorchester-Baynes was very proud of her that he asked her to work with him."

"Like a lecturer?"

"No, she was more of a mentor. A mentor to all faculty students of all levels. She was very popular. Such a lovely girl."

"Was she doing a special project, Helen?" Morse asked.

"That girl was always writing some sort of thesis," Helen replied. "Even after she obtained that doctorate she was always taking part in some sort of new curriculum or research - something to give the students to aim for. Dorchester-Baynes demands his students obtain top marks. It was like some kind of power trip. Anyone who failed would be booted out. He only wanted the cream of the crop, the arrogant goat!"

Morse tried not to laugh, but this was classic Helen. He paused to drink. "Helen, do you know of a Miss C. Cruickshank? We found her name with the first body."

"I thought you said only two names, Pagan." Morse's face fell. _So much for that avenue._ Helen took Morse's hand and smiled warmly. "The other girl you mentioned. She belongs to the English faculty..."

"English?" Morse didn't mean to interrupt. He apologised.

"No need," Helen replied. "There is a lot of jealousy regarding her. Some of the other students do not like her. They feel she doesn't belong here."

"A foreign student?"

"Kind of, yes. Well, she is English on her mother's side." Helen broke off suddenly. "How is the choir singing, Pagan?"

Morse's eyebrows narrowed again with the sudden turn of questioning. "I haven't sung since I joined the force," he replied. "You know that."

"Maybe you should re-join or at least…" She leaned forward. "Go and see what is going on?" She gave Morse a wink, and he suddenly broke into a smile.

"Thank you, Helen." He leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Be careful," she told him as he finished the last bit of his tea and got up to leave. "I do worry about you." Morse nodded and left leaving Helen to her own devices. She took off her glasses and wiped a tear from her eye. She hoped she would see him again and much, much sooner.

* * *

Morse walked out from the library and back into the cold. The wind was picking up and turning rather gusty forcing him to jog towards the chapel where he knew the choir would be rehearsing. This brought back memories for Morse as it wasn't too long ago he swapped it for dead bodies and the heavy, complicated world of crime solving. He respectfully entered the building and walked slowly inside, taking a seat in a pew on the far opposite side. As he listened, he recognised the hymn instantly. His eyes began scanning the choir hoping that the tip off he received would pay off. Sure enough, right on the other side in the front row was the same girl he saw the night before. He watched as she sung and instantly became mesmerised again, even more so as he noticed how beautifully she sung; her mannerisms ebbed and flowed with the notes of the hymn aided by the choirmaster, who was guiding them perfectly. Morse didn't take his eyes off her for one second. The girl meanwhile looked at the empty pews opposite and stopped as she noticed Morse looking directly at her. She wasn't going to be distracted however and carried on singing. Morse shuffled uncomfortably once he was found out and left quietly. He decided to wait for her outside.

* * *

Thursday stormed back into the station with steam coming out of his ears. Struggling along behind was Strange, who was deliberately taking his time and not wanting to catch up with his superior at all costs. He wondered how Morse did it every day. He deserved more than that bravery medal, he thought. He also didn't blame him for losing his rag either, something which he thought he would never see. He stopped outside the entrance and dared not venture inside. He doubted Thursday would even notice anyway.

"Are you all right, Sergeant Strange?"

"Oh, hello." Strange was happy to see the bright figure of Shirley Trewlove standing next to him. She was also on her way inside. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. You don't look very happy." Strange's face soured.

"Fred Thursday is like a bear with a sore head!"

"Oh, dear. Still no improvement since this morning?"

"No. He actually is worse! We just got back from seeing Doctor de Bryn."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, love. That is making the guv's mood increasingly unbearable!" Trewlove laughed quietly. She felt sorry for him. It was unusual to see such a jolly person like Strange feeling down. She noticed someone missing from their gang.

"Where is Morse?" she asked.

"No idea," Strange replied. "Last thing I heard he was going on the search of that girl he came across at the university last night. He isn't happy with Thursday either."

"Now that is odd," Trewlove remarked. She noticed how down and upset Strange looked and offered to treat him to a cup of coffee and a pastry in the canteen. Strange's face lit up and nodded. He flashed a grin and they both walked inside the station.

* * *

The choristers filed out from the chapel chatting amongst themselves with their bags of books on their person. Morse came off from the wall he was leaning on nearby and looked out for the girl he was so determined to speak to. Sure enough, she appeared on her own, the last one to leave, her head down. Morse walked towards her, and she suddenly looked up as if she knew he was there.

"Hello," Morse said pleasantly. The girl looked straight at him with the same look she gave him yesterday. "I'm Detective Sergeant…"

"Morse. Yes, I remember." Once again, the two of them gazed at each other, echoing their movements from the night before. "I want to apologise for last night." She walked slowly ahead, her head drooping down again. Morse followed her at her pace, flanking her. "I guess I was pretty shocked at what happened."

"No, no need to apologise," Morse said reassuringly. "It was understandable under the circumstances." They both stopped outside the building in question and the girl looked up.

"I guess you want to know who I am and why I was so desperate to go up there." Morse observed her body language and the tone of her voice. She was a lot more mature, and her voice was soft and well spoken. The girl sighed heavily and looked at him. "My name is Ava," she said outstretching her hand. Morse found himself looking into her eyes as he shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Ava," he answered politely. "Is there anywhere we can go to chat?" He realised a split second later how it sounded and quickly retracted it. "I didn't mean it like that…"

"No, it's okay. I knew what you meant." Ava smiled a little making Morse feel even more embarrassed. "My room's not far from here," she advised. "Follow me." She walked ahead away from the building with Morse beside her.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Here in Oxford? Quite a while." She reached into her pocket and took out a bunch of keys to unlock the door.

Unbeknown to them, someone was watching their every move via a window overlooking the campus nearby. Through a pair of binoculars, they were spotted walking up a short flight of stairs and halfway down a corridor, Ava unlocking the door to her room and entering inside with Morse. Beside the figure, a cup of tea was sitting on a table. The cup was lifted off the saucer, and the figure took a careful sip before settling down the binoculars and gently closing the window.

Morse stepped further inside Ava's room and took a good look at his surroundings. It looked like very modern and spacious digs: it was furnished with a huge sofa, a television, a wireless on a shelf and a bookshelf by the window. The kitchen was next to him on the left hand side with the bedroom in the distance not far away. He noticed a picture of a film star in a small frame on top of the TV with a coffee table not far in front of the sofa. The décor was bright but mixed with a hint of beige. Much better than his digs, but then students needed to be 'in' with the latest trends or so he thought.

Ava walked towards the bookshelf to dump her bunch of keys on top. She then opened the window to accept a huge gust of wind that came rushing through sending her hair back. She took a deep breath to clear her lungs and left it open ajar. She then turned to look at Morse who was very deep in thought, looking in her direction.

"Ava Gardner," she said of the picture on the television set. "My mother – Ava was her favourite actress. She named me after her."

"Oh, I see." Morse really wasn't into modernity. But that didn't mean he wasn't interested. Time was moving on fast and the 1970s wasn't too far away.

"She would have called me Assumpta, but luckily my father had other ideas."

"Assumpta?" Morse asked. "Religious?"

"Mother yes, but father no. They met in Southampton. Father was on business and mother visiting family. She said she was about to join a convent there, but we all knew it was rubbish." She sat down on the sofa. Morse still maintained his position. "Please don't stand like that," she said. "It makes me think I am on my way to the gallows."

Morse smiled in amusement. He was becoming increasingly fascinated by her. Ava leaned forward to rest her elbows on her lap, her hands cupping her bowed head. Her hair fell forwards.

"Are you all right, Miss Ava?" Morse suddenly grew concerned and moved to sit beside her without hesitation. Ava turned her head to look at him though the strands of her hair.

"I wanted to go up there…" she began only to stop. "Father insisted he and mother have a civilian service, so they ended up marrying at City Hall in Singapore." Morse became confused at the sudden change in direction. Ava looked straight at Morse. She sat up and laced her hair behind her ear. "Detective Sergeant Morse, can I ask your name?"

"Just Morse, Miss Ava. Can I ask your surname?"

"Just call me Ava." For the first time Ava grinned and Morse bowed his head with a smile at her response. This girl grew more and more intriguing by the minute. "Morse, you don't know what you have got yourself into." Panic suddenly came over her features. "You have to be really careful. We are all in deep trouble. Lucy…"

"Lucy?" Morse asked thinking he was going to hit the jackpot. "Lucy Leyton?"

Ava nodded. "She was in the middle of writing something big. She knew she was in over her head, out of her depth, but she was so determined to complete it." She suddenly gripped Morse's arm. " _Please!_ " she begged. "You have got to stop them. The students…" She stopped short again. Morse looked into Ava's eyes and saw the sheer fear in them.

"What about the students, Miss Ava?" He maintained his calm tone. "Is the college in danger?" But Ava suddenly stood up.

"You've got to go," she said urgently. "I am being watched. He knows you are already in here. I've said too much. Please, Morse…"

"Miss Ava, are you in trouble?" But Ava shook her head violently.

"Please!" she whispered. "I am begging you! Just go!" Morse searched her eyes for an answer, finding none, and got up to leave. He felt something pressed into his hand as the door closed behind him.

As he walked through the archway towards his car, Morse began to feel…well… Rather nonplussed about the events of the past few days. 'What the hell was going on?' he began asking himself. He liked challenges, but this one? As he got inside and closed the door, Morse took a look at what was hurriedly given to him, like a secret message in the classroom. It was written rather neatly on a small white card:

 ** _Catherine… Her name is Catherine…_**

Morse wondered if Ava had confirmed the name of the first victim. However, he knew he would have to face Thursday and decided to head back to the station.

* * *

Dusk turned into late evening. Morse was as usual burning the candle at both ends. He came back in that afternoon to an earful from Thursday, who then informed him of the folders of de Bryn's reports on the two bodies, along with a few things taken from the second victim's room, and finally the photographs taken from the scene. They were all on a huge pile on his desk. He went through them carefully and somewhat methodically, making notes as he went along. The pathologist's reports he knew already, so he set them aside. He started on the photographs going through each one again carefully, making sure there wasn't anything he may have missed. He compared the positions of both bodies, seeing if there was anything similar or if there was a pattern. That drew a blank. He then saw the next batch, which were the photos of the second victim's room. Again, nothing peculiar that told him it was nothing more than a once over. But then something caught his eye. A little speck in the corner, which had a small table turned on its side. Morse grabbed his magnifying glass from the drawer beside him and took a look. He quickly jotted down in his notepad what it could be:

 _Textbook_

 _Novel_

 _Dictionary_

 _Atlas_

Morse looked up as he wrote the last word and noticed the evidence board ahead of him. He stood up and realised he hadn't given that a look since he got back. There were pictures of both bodies pinned, Thursday's scribble of 'unidentified' written in capitals underneath each one in blue. Underneath the first dead body was the possible address that was found with her attached with a question mark by the place 'London'. Underneath the second body, Thursday had written what Morse had told him at the time about the position of the body and the name 'Lucy Leyton' followed by another question mark. The name 'Dorchester-Baynes' was also written. Morse decided to make his own notes underneath the first body and scribbled 'Catherine?' underneath 'London'. He also wrote a note about the scar on her finger with the word 'ring?' in block capitals next to it. By the second body he wrote the title 'PhD' followed by 'project'. He stopped short of mentioning Ava.

As he took his seat back at his desk, the next photo was of the writing on the wall. Morse studied it carefully, but still couldn't make out where he had seen it before. He decided to pin that to the evidence board, and stepped back to take another look only to sigh in annoyance. This wasn't like him! Things normally came to him so easily, but this really stumped him. He took note of the time made a move to leave. He picked up a few unopened folders, switched off his desk lamp and left collecting his coat along the way.

Oxford was already swathed in darkness by the time Morse left the station. He knew he would be back at that map and the folders when he got home. He wished he could just shut down, but he couldn't, not when this case was eating into him - along with Ava. Morse placed the files on top of the car as he fished into his pocket for his keys. He didn't hear the footsteps approach him across the gravel from behind, nor did he realise he was going to be hit across the back of the head with an object until he hit the ground. Morse tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't. He stopped moving as his body's defence mechanisms took over.

* * *

Sir Richard Dorchester-Baynes was a tall and overpowering fellow. He was knocking six-foot-five, and his frame seemed to command respect from most, especially around campus. He had salt and pepper hair and seemed young for his age. He had been at the helm for a while and in that time changed the way the department was run, some would say for the better. Others though had other ideas. As Helen told Morse that day, he only expected good grades and results from the students, as if he was in direct competition with the other faculties. Something must have worked because his was always in the top three each year. However, with success came failure, and just as much as he churned out the best students, he also booted out the failures. At the end of each semester, lots of students left the faculty either to attempt something new or leave the university altogether. He was high in expectation and demanded the same in return. Always in robes or immaculately dressed in the highest quality suits, you could not miss him. He breezed around the grounds with arrogance and certainly succeeded in placing the fear of God into the brave students who stayed. They daren't let him down!

He strutted through the archway on his way to a meeting when he stopped to look up at the still sealed off building. He saw the cordon and the movements of the uniformed officers coming in and out. The window was by now boarded up giving it a very common feel; an eyesore. Dorchester-Baynes' expression soured and his blood boiled. This was an embarrassment to his faculty, not least to himself, and to the outlook of the area which he expected just a high a standard if not more. He would be bringing this up at the meeting! He did a sharp about turn with his heel and walked powerfully across the campus, some students deliberately avoiding him as he did so.

* * *

Shirley Trewlove smiled and beckoned Fred Thursday to come over. Morse blinked trying to let some light into his eyes. He tried to sit up only to let out a groan as the pain hit him. He shielded his eyes from the bright light coming from the window only to look confusingly at Trewlove, who was the first person he saw.

"Hello, Morse," she beamed. "Wakey-wakey."

"Good morning," Thursday added, coming into view with a friendly smile. Morse looked at him and felt even more confused.

"Where am I?" he muttered.

"The hospital," Trewlove replied. "You took a huge knock on your head."

"Huh?"

"Last night," Thursday explained. "Don't you remember?"

"No…" Morse tried to swallow but his throat was dry. Trewlove poured him a glass of water. "Thank you." He drank it down whole. "What happened again?" he asked Thursday as he gave Trewlove back the glass.

"You were found in the car park. You took a blow to the back of your head. The doctors ran some tests and kept you in overnight for concussion."

Morse tried to think but he couldn't. He groaned again as the pain reached his head and decided to lie back down. A doctor walked in after knocking. He took one look at Morse and picked up his clipboard at the foot of the bed.

"Ah, you're awake," he said. "You are very lucky. This could have been a lot worse. Your tests came back all clear." He signed off the paperwork and hooked the clipboard back on the frame. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Morse replied. The doctor approached him and took out his torch pen to look at his eyes.

"All good," he concluded, putting the instrument back into his breast pocket. "I will discharge you today. There is no point keeping you here when your brain functions are normal. What I will do though is prescribe you some painkillers. As you can appreciate, you will be sore and in pain for some time."

"Thank you, doctor, but I won't be needing any," Morse came back rather stubbornly.

"Be as it may - you may still need them. I will get one of the nurses to hand it to you as you leave." He nodded at the two officers opposite him and left. Morse attempted again to sit up straight. He seemed extremely inconvenienced by it all albeit a little embarrassed. He knew his colleagues would support him, but he began to get so set in his ways he couldn't help feeling how he did. That and he hated hospitals…

"The folders," he suddenly said. "Did you recover the folders?"

"What folders?" Trewlove asked.

"The folders I wanted to bring home. The folders on the case…" He winced again as a sharp pain came over his head.

"I'll grab that prescription." Trewlove gave Thursday a knowing look as she departed. Morse turned his head to look at his Inspector.

"There were no folders found," he replied. "We found the weapon that was used to hit you though. No fingerprints."

Morse sighed irritably. What else could possibly go wrong? That was answered when Trewlove poked her head through the doorway.

"They found the missing folders," she informed them.

"Where?" Morse nearly got out of bed. He took note of the awkward look on her face. She glanced at Thursday before leaving again.

"We'll wait for you outside, Morse. Take your time."

"Yes, sir." Morse waited until Thursday left before throwing the linen off him. He sat up on the edge of the bed and hoped that at least some of the evidence was at least recoverable.

Unfortunately, the burnt out bonfire in a remote field put paid to that. Thursday decided to drive Morse back to his flat, giving him at least one day to rest - if he would in fact will. Morse was deep in thought as the scenery zipped past the window. He began to think of Ava and wondered what she was up to, if she was safe. He then thought about the folders he lost and the impending meeting with Bright. He wondered if he was now in over his head, that whoever murdered those two girls was beyond anything he had ever encountered. He was such in a trance like state he didn't notice the car slowing down to a halt, and Thursday pulling up the handbrake.

"We're home," he said looking at Morse who didn't move. "Morse?"

"Sir?" Morse turned his head to look at him.

"We're home." Morse realised they were parked outside his flat and opened the door. "Take the rest of the day off, Morse." He looked at Thursday. "I'll keep you posted if anything crops up. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Morse walked down the steps carefully in a daze, and he barely managed to turn the key in the lock. He took out his bag of painkillers and dumped them on a chair as he headed straight for the bedroom, collapsing face down on the bed. As his eyes closed, the loud ringing of the telephone forced him to drag himself over to answer. He heard the familiar voice of Strange on the other end and his eyes flew open. "I'll be right over." Morse slammed down the phone and grabbed his coat before running out slamming the door. He opened it again a split second later to begrudgingly grab the paper bag with his tablets before leaving again.

* * *

Max de Bryn stood outside pathology waiting to meet Morse and Thursday. He went back inside as he saw them walking down the corridor. The portly pathologist took one look at Morse when he stepped inside, looking very worse for wear.

"I am surprised to see you here," he told him. "Got a nasty blow to the head I heard." Morse said nothing except slightly wince as his head began to hurt slightly. De Bryn shook his head in disapproval but wasn't surprised at the detective sergeant's stubbornness.

"How long have they been here?" Thursday asked quietly noticing a couple from the window sitting on a couple of chairs outside in the corridor.

"Not long. About half-an-hour," de Bryn replied. "It seems your Ms Frazil at The Mail managed to get in contact with them."

Morse looked at the couple and told Thursday he was going to speak with them. He walked the short distance, approaching them slowly so as not to frighten them further. The husband looked up as he heard Morse's footsteps and nudged his wife. She turned her head as Morse stood in front of them, giving them distance so as not to invade their personal space. They looked like a loving couple, he observed. The woman was wearing a tweed skirt and jacket with a neatly pressed white blouse and held a Jackie Kennedy style black handbag. Her husband was dressed casually in a pair of relaxed blue trousers and a brown jacket. He had a white shirt on. Both looked like they were in their early to mid-40s.

"Good morning, I am Detective Sergeant Morse. I would first like to apologise for us meeting like this. I can't imagine how hard this is for you."

"We came as soon as we got a call," the husband replied in a well-spoken but still blatant Cockney accent. "Caught the next train from Paddington… Are you sure it could be her?"

"We honestly don't know," Morse replied trying to be as tactful as possible. "We had to put out a missing person's because we had no ID on her."

"Did she suffer?" The wife looked up at Morse with tears in her eyes.

"No, madam, she did not." Morse wished he could do something more to help. He didn't like seeing a mother cry… It reminded him too much of his.

"When can we see her?"

"Now if you'd like." The woman looked at her husband and they both held hands tightly. Once Morse got the okay, he looked over at Thursday with a nod. The couple stood up and followed Morse towards pathology.

De Bryn had made sure things were ready for the couple. He tried very hard not to make it more difficult than it was already for them. There was no separate room for body identifications, something which distinctly bothered de Bryn as he knew this was no place for these kinds of delicate matters. The woman stared at the covered body on the trolley in front of her, and the tears began to flow. Her husband was visibly affected by the whole thing. De Bryn introduced himself as did Thursday. The husband nodded politely in acknowledgement and waited for the cover to be pulled back.

The woman wailed loudly as the first dead girl's face was revealed, and she buried her face in her husband's chest as she began to sob. The tears ran down his face as he placed his hand delicately over the back of his wife's head.

"Is this your daughter, sir?" Thursday asked. The husband looked at him.

"No," he replied shaking his head. "No. This isn't our baby."

Morse couldn't believe what he heard. Thursday thanked the couple and de Bryn asked Monica to lead the couple out to a private room. He placed the sheet back over the girl's face as the two officers left.

"I think it's about time we paid Dorchester-Baynes a visit, sir." Morse was by now pissed off and more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this.

"I agree," Thursday replied. "First, let me have a word with Bright to let him know about the ID. You wait in the car."

"Yes, sir." Morse for once did not object. He was in no physical state to meet Bright, especially with how he was feeling. The two officers hot footed it down the corridor and out into the hospital grounds.

* * *

The room was grey and cold and looked slightly dilapidated. There were a few bits of dusty furniture dotted around with a very dirty window bolted shut, and the odd cobweb dangling from the corners. In the centre of the room was what looked like an antique desk, also very dusty but not neglected. It had a big, high backed chair behind lined in red velvet. The room obviously hadn't been used in a long time. A shaft of light cut across the floor and up against a wall as a door creaked open. Hollow footsteps was heard across the dusty floor, and a chamber candlestick holder was placed on the desk. A split second later a bunch of folders was dumped next to it to be left there. The footsteps retreated into the distance followed by a loud bang and the sound of the door being locked.

* * *

Thursday and Morse were ushered inside a huge and rather intimidating room. It wasn't unusual for the Deans and/or Masters of the colleges to have these types of rooms. Certainly, for someone of Dorchester-Baynes' status he could only expect this kind of luxury. The interior was made of what looked like mahogany, the panels stretching high from floor to ceiling. There were lots of trophies and certificates dotted around on shelves and walls as a sort of 'self-promotion' - another way of showcasing his arrogance. An extra-large desk was the main attraction. It was majestic and a masterpiece made of the finest polished wood with a hint of white marble. More framed accolades adorned it, along with very neat and tidy paperwork. Tall bookshelves surrounded the room along with a huge leather sofa against a wall nearby. The thin, church like windows topped off the design, daylight streaming in bringing a bit of brightness against the dark backdrop.

Dorchester-Baynes looked up at the two officers. He knew this was going to be about the death on his campus. Morse noticed he was dressed in robes – very typically Oxford.

"I am Detective Sergeant Morse and this is Detective Chief Inspector Thursday. We would like to talk to you about the body that was found here a few days ago."

"Ah, yes! I was told about this when I got back. I was at a conference."

"Do you know anything about the girl who died?"

"No, I don't." He looked straight at Morse and leaned forward with his elbows on the desk, his fingers laced together. "What did she look like?"

"She had long dark hair and blue eyes. She was in her early twenties."

"No, can't say I do. Detective Sergeant, you have to understand that I have over five hundred or so students in my faculty. It would be impossible of me to recognise every, single one."

"But you know the ones you dismiss, do you not?" Morse looked for a flinch, anything that would give him more ammunition, but received nothing.

"Only by name... Detective Sergeant Morse, is it?" Dorchester-Baynes studied him a little. "Morse… Weren't you a student here?"

"A while ago, yes. Although I don't see what this has to…"

"Yes… I knew your name sounded familiar." Now it was the Master's turn to play the game. Morse just stared at him, not giving in.

"Do you know of a former student by the name of Lucy Leyton?"

"Yes, of course. She was one of my success stories. Why?"

"We think she may be the dead girl," Thursday replied not liking where this was going. Dorchester-Baynes looked at him.

"You mean you haven't got an ID and you are looking for one?" Both Thursday and Morse were stunned at the coldness of his tone. "Look, gentlemen. I don't understand why you are asking me these things. Surely as policemen, you should explore other avenues. Asking me to ID a girl purely based on what you have described is a clear indication to me that you are clutching at straws." This time he got them. Morse's eyes drifted around the room. He noticed something on the wall in a corner.

"Are you a religious man, Sir Dorchester-Baynes?"

"I am as it happens. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." He paused. "Lucy was undertaking a project. Do you know what about?"

"Lucy wrote many papers and projects. That was part of her talent. Why?"

"We found a folder in her room," Morse replied.

"As I just told you, sergeant, Lucy wrote a lot of papers – sometimes two to three at a time. She liked challenging the students and that included projects. I would hardly need to take an interest into _everything_ she was writing." Thursday now noticed the competition between his sergeant and the Master. He wanted to step in again but thought otherwise.

"Tell me, Sir Dorchester-Baynes. Have you seen Lucy recently?"

"Can't say that I have. Look, Sergeant Morse, I can't account for the girl's whereabouts all the time. I may look domineering, but I am not her gaoler. I don't keep her under lock and key just as I don't expect my students to stay on site all the time. Now, if you don't mind, this conversation has been riveting, but I do have another meeting to attend."

"Thank you, Sir Dorchester-Baynes," Thursday said respectfully. The two officers turned to leave. As they walked out of the door, Morse suddenly turned.

"Oh, just one more thing." He stepped back inside. "If Lucy Leyton was my protégée, my shining star, and I hadn't seen her in a while, knowing that a death occurred right here on my doorstep, I would be concerned to find out if that body was hers. Wouldn't you?" There was silence. _Checkmate!_ "Thank you again, Sir Dorchester-Baynes." As the door closed, the Master glared at where Morse had stood. He hated losing. He picked up a phone that was sitting directly in front of him.

"Meet me in five minutes," he told the person at the other end. "Yes, now – and not a minute longer!" He slammed down the receiver and thumped his fist angrily on the desk.

* * *

Morse and Thursday walked out of the building and through the grounds of the faculty. They were disgusted at the Master's attitude and his obvious disregard of what happened on his patch.

"He is hiding something," Morse told him. "He knows it could be Lucy we found."

"Not to mention the fact he doesn't care," Thursday said in agreement. "Did you see all those certificates, the trophies? It is all about him."

"There was something else, sir. In the corner. It was a shroud."

"What of?" They walked through the archway and out on to the main road.

"I couldn't tell from where I was standing, but it looked medieval." Thursday stood by his side of the car.

"Do you think you can find out? I know you have a good memory. There is something about that Master I just want to put in his place."

"Yes, sir." Thursday nodded and got in. Morse was about to open the driver's door when something caught his eye and he looked up. He was surprised to see Ava standing in the mouth of the archway, her arms loosely folded. She was looking straight at him in disappointment. Morse wanted to go over to her, to talk to her, but he couldn't. He could only watch as Ava shook her head sadly and walked back inside. He took note of Thursday calling him and he got in, turning the key in the ignition and driving back to the station.

* * *

A long-fingered hand gently picked up a quill from the inkwell and began to write, the ink dancing on the rough paper. Opera was playing in the background as the words took shape. Another gentle dunk in the inkwell produced more ink and gradually a sentence was revealed. The fingers gently laid the quill down and picked up the paper to look at the intricate artwork. Once satisfied, the paper was left to dry and the occupant walked away from the table. The sentence was short, consisting of a few words, but the message was perfectly clear:

 ** _You are next!_**

* * *

Chief Superintendent Bright was not a happy bunny. In fact, he was damn right furious! He summoned both Thursday and Morse into his office. The two officers stood in front of his desk looking straight ahead waiting for Bright to shut the door. It made an almighty slam. Bright stood to the side looking at the two officers, getting angrier with every passing minute.

"I just had a call from Dorchester-Baynes," he began. "Telling me all about your little visit you paid him earlier this afternoon! Would you both care to explain?"

"We had to visit him, sir," Thursday explained, his eyes still affixed to the window in front of him. "We needed information about the second dead girl."

"And did it occur to both of you to ask me first? I did tell you to keep me informed." Bright walked back to his desk so he could take a good look at the two detectives in front of him. "He wasn't happy with you, Morse!" His voice rose and his eyes darted in his direction. "In fact, he was very vocal about you. Called you 'obnoxious', 'disrespectful'. He told me that if it wasn't for the fact you were a former student, he wouldn't have hesitated to make a further complaint!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Morse said in slight apology. "But that was the only way to get something out of him. He knows about Lucy Leyton. In fact, I think he knows that was the body we found that evening."

"Do you want me to take you both off the case?!" Bright shouted angrily. "Do you know who Dorchester-Baynes is, Morse? Do you? That man is involved in the highest of circles. He knows everyone and everything here in Oxford. Do you think you would have a cat in hell's chance of a further career in the force if he spoke to the right person? The man will make sure you never set foot inside a police station again anywhere, Morse! For God's sake, how does this look! You were reckless!" He took a deep breath to gain his composure. "So, did either of you get a confirmation of the body? Is she actually Lucy Leyton?"

Morse and Thursday glanced at each other. "No, sir," Morse eventually replied.

"Of course not!" Bright yelled. "Because again you were damn bloody reckless!" He could feel his blood pressure rising and sat down. He counted to ten silently. "So…no ID, no further leads. Do you have anything else that would explain your interrogation?"

"A shroud, sir." Thursday rolled his eyes and looked away. For once, he just wanted Morse to keep his mouth shut.

"A shroud?" Bright now was staring at Morse in disbelief. "Get out! Both of you! And if you decide to pay another visit to Dorchester-Baynes, I want to be informed IN ADVANCE! Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Thursday replied. He discreetly pushed Morse out of the door following him out. Bright watched as he saw he shadows of his officers disappear and grabbed a glass tumbler and a small bottle from a cupboard behind him, pouring himself a drink. As he took a long sip and a deep breath, he relaxed. He had no choice but to shout at Morse, even though deep down he knew he was on to something. He opened his desk drawer and took a folder out. It was the one Morse was looking for.

* * *

Thursday approached the evidence board to prepare an update on what was going on and to find out if there were any further developments in regards the first body. Morse decided to stay at his desk, his mind on that shroud, and Thursday's request to find out what it was. He listened as the meeting began whilst having a think. He didn't see it properly, so the chance of him identifying it was as close as the identity of the two bodies. But there was something familiar about that shroud and the little bit that he saw. He knew obviously it was medieval, but nothing more than that. However, the more he thought about it, the more his brain was trying to give him the wider picture. He knew that was a key to part solving the case, or at least involving Dorchester-Baynes. He knew he was religious, but what was the link? A visit to the university's history library was due.

The sound of Strange's voice and the mention of the first body got his attention. He saw Thursday wave him over. Shirley Trewlove was also in attendance and she smiled as Morse leant himself against a desk. He caught her glance and returned the compliment.

"I did some research into the Cruickshank name that was found by the first victim," Strange told them. "There is a family by that name that owned a stationary shop along the Commercial Road. Unfortunately, it closed down."

"Any forwarding address?" Thursday asked. "Any ideas if the shop was taken over?"

"Apparently, it has been by a…" Strange turned to pick up his notepad behind him on his desk. "It is now a tailors by the name of Feldman. I tried calling but the phone just rings out."

"Keep trying," Thursday told him. "We may have to head down there." He looked at Morse.

"There is something more than a link between the Master and Lucy Leyton," he said. "He knows something. Unfortunately, we don't know what as yet."

"Does he think the second body is Lucy?" Trewlove asked. Morse looked at her.

"I think he does. At least, he knows more than he is prepared to disclose." Morse went deep into thought again. He didn't notice Thursday had closed the meeting. Morse walked back to the evidence board to take another look. He stared at the pictures again wondering if he missed something that evening. Trewlove walked over to stand beside him.

"Is something the matter?" she asked. "Do you see something?"

"No, not yet." He turned to look at her. "I'm going to the university. Can you let Thursday know? He will know why."

"Do you need me to accompany you?" Trewlove asked as Morse walked over to grab his coat. He looked at her and shook his head. Strange looked up from his desk as Morse disappeared out the door.

"He is on to something," he told her. "I can tell." He looked over his shoulder. "Do you want to give me a hand with this, love?" he asked.

"Sure," Trewlove replied still watching the empty doorway. She grabbed a seat and sat down next to Strange, who placed the telephone in front of her.

* * *

The familiar domed building of the university's history library, the Radcliffe Camera, greeted Morse as he walked inside. It was quite busy, with the students taking up most of the seated areas. This time Morse knew exactly where he was heading. He walked towards the medieval history section and went along the rows of books, trying to find the one he needed. His fingers ran along the hard backed spines, his eyes skimming along the various titles before finally stopping. There was a gap between two books indicating obviously that it had been taken out. Morse made a mental note of the book number by the available ones on either side and made his way to the front desk.

The librarian looked up and smiled at Morse as he approached her. She was obviously too young, so he hazarded a guess that she was a student.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Morse smiled. "I wonder if you can. I am looking for a history book. Could you double check if it has been taken out?"

"Sure!" The librarian was only too happy to oblige. "Do you have the spine number?"

"Of course. It is MED 5168." Morse watched as she took a look at the appropriate list.

"Yes, I'm afraid it has."

"Do you know by whom? I'm doing a thesis you see and I need it for reference."

"That book is very popular. It has been taken out 10 times in the past month. But as far as who has it, I can't say. It was an outside request. Sometimes we loan books to outside sources."

"And you don't have records of these sources?"

"I'm afraid not. I am only allowed to access so much information. But what I can tell you is that it was taken out recently."

"How recently?"

"About…" She ran her finger down the piece of paper in front of her, "three days ago. There was an indefinite ticket on it, so I cannot tell you when it will be returned." The librarian turned to look at him. "Would you like me to take your name and details down, so I can let you know when we are in receipt of it?"

Morse smiled warmly. "Oh, no thank you. I will come back. Thank you for your help."

"No problem." She watched as Morse left, and once the coast was clear, crouched down and slid open a cupboard door. She took out a book that was hidden inside and hurriedly shoved it in a big leather holdall by the foot of a chair next to her. She fastened the buckle, picked it up, stood up and left her position making her way through the library towards the exit. She didn't notice Morse was watching her discreetly nearby. He saw her scurry across the cobble stones and walked off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Instead of heading back to the station, Morse decided to revisit the site of where the first body was found. He walked down the alleyway passing the point where the body was discovered, turning a corner and headed towards the ditch. The sun shone through the dark clouds, a shaft of light shining down on a certain area as if to guide him. Morse crouched down and via the sunlight found something shiny in the shallow dirty water. It was a ring. He picked it up to take a look, and the more he studied it, the more he was stumped. He noticed an inscription near the hallmark which was covered in dirt that he couldn't remove easily. Morse thought about things for a while before taking out a plastic evidence bag from his coat pocket. This will be heading to forensics as soon as he got back.

* * *

Fred Thursday sighed irritably as he put the phone down. He got word from forensics that all the items retrieved from Lucy Leyton's room came back clean. This was heading in completely the wrong direction. It seemed they were not getting anywhere. He stood up, walking out of his office. Strange and Trewlove looked up.

"Any luck with that number?" he asked them only for Trewlove to shake her head.

"None, sir," she replied. "We are searching for other premises in the area; see if they know anything."

"All right, well keep at it," Thursday said encouragingly. "Let me know if you get anywhere."

"Yes, sir." Trewlove went back to her research. Morse walked in and hung his coat on the stand. He asked Thursday if he could speak to him and they both went inside the office. Trewlove snuck a sneaky glance as the door closed.

Thursday took a seat at his desk and told Morse of forensics' findings. That also didn't impress Morse, but it didn't surprise him either. He took out the plastic evidence bag and handed it over.

"I decided to head to the area where we found the first body," Morse explained. "I found this in the ditch nearby."

Thursday looked at the ring through the transparent bag and in particular the muddy detail. "What do you reckon this could be?"

"I don't know, sir. I was going to take this to forensics to see if they can find out. There is an inscription by the hallmark. Hopefully they will be able to clean it up."

"The first victim's finger looked like it could have had a ring ripped from it," Thursday said, recalling what de Bryn mentioned. "This might be hers. Yes, get this down to forensics. Tell them to make it urgent. Hopefully that inscription may be able to finally identify her."

"Yes, sir." Morse took the bag back and headed out. Trewlove raised her head almost immediately and wondered what was going on. She saw Morse look at her briefly as he ran back out and got on again with her research.

* * *

The pub was quite busy that evening and Morse, Thursday, Strange and Trewlove were lucky to get a table. It was the end of their shift and Thursday made it a point for his team to have some downtime. It had been a tough time for them all so far. However, nothing was said between them, their minds still focused on the case, or in Morse's head, Ava. He just could not stop thinking about her. No matter how hard he tried all he could think about was the look of fear in her eyes the last time they spoke. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw her standing by the archway. He thought he let her down, even though he was just doing his job and following a lead. He hoped she was all right…

"Morse?" Trewlove's voice broke into his thoughts. He took a sip from his pint and looked at her.

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering if you think the ring may belong to the first girl we found?"

"Now, no shop talk," Thursday interjected. "We are here for a reason, just a few hours not to talk about it."

"Yes, sir," came the reply, but even then they all knew otherwise. Again, nothing was said between the four of them as they carried on drinking.

* * *

The streets of Oxford were pitch black by the time they left the pub. They all bid each other goodnight, Thursday and Strange walking in opposite directions. Morse offered to walk Trewlove home and together they walked down the street, the lights of the streetlamps guiding them. Nothing much was said as they walked, Trewlove glancing at Morse every so often who still had his head away in the clouds. She glanced down at the pavement as they turned a corner.

"Are you okay?" she eventually asked. Morse didn't reply. Trewlove again glanced at the pavement before looking straight ahead. She decided to ask the burning question which had been at the forefront of her mind for a long time. "You like her, don't you?"

"Like her?" Morse asked. "Like whom?"

"The girl at the university." Morse hesitated for a moment both in pace and in his reply.

"You mean Ava?" he asked.

"Is that her name?" Trewlove tried not to react in a way Morse would correctly interpret - she hoped anyway.

"I am concerned about her that's all," Morse replied. "She seems to have the weight of Lucy on her shoulders. It can't be easy for her."

"No, not at all." Trewlove still didn't get the answer she was looking for. That was the thing about Morse – he had so much in his head it would be impossible to even get a straight answer out of him. She knew he kept his feelings well hidden. "Just be careful, Morse." They finally stopped outside a gate. Morse turned to look at her. He appreciated her concern.

"Thank you, WPC Trewlove," he answered gratefully. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight; and thank you for walking me home."

"My pleasure. See you tomorrow." He made sure she was safely inside before walking away. He knew Trewlove had worked it out, but was he brave enough to admit it? He still hoped Joanie would turn up, that she had a change of heart. But deep down he knew that would never happen. His thoughts turned back to Ava again and he did not stop thinking about her until he reached home.

* * *

In the darkness of the campus a huge bang of a big iron door echoed through the empty grounds and footsteps could be heard running across the gravel, gathering pace by the second. The panting of breath grew louder and louder as the pace moved to a sprint. Someone looked like they were running for their life. This someone knew the grounds like the back of their hand, the way the outlines and shadows led the way like a path. A broken piece of stone suddenly made the person fall briefly; a small yelp was heard as a reaction. It was only a minor blip though and the person was on their way again, sprinting towards the direction of an archway, the direction of a door. It was easily open by a push, and the figure ran inside, making sure the door was bolted from the inside. _Safe at last._ By now, this person's energy was completely sapped, and the figure had no choice but to sit on the steps halfway up taking quick breaths to get some much needed air into their lungs. The quickness of breath turned into slow deep ones, and as calm returned so did the energy to walk up the remaining steps. The last thing that was heard was the gentle closing of a door.

* * *

The beautiful sound of a choir was heard coming from the chapel late the next morning. It filled the campus with grace and class and distinction. Morse walked inside the grounds taking in the hymn that was being sung. A smile of recognition came over his face as he approached the chapel. Sure enough, Ava was rehearsing with her fellow choir members, their choirmaster giving them a different piece to sing. She glanced at Morse as he took a seat and to his surprise, she winked at him. He bowed his head in embarrassment and took another look at Ava, who was now concentrating on her singing. She made a signal with her eyes towards the exit and watched as Morse stood up to leave.

"Ava!" The choirmaster suddenly called out. "Focus!"

"Sorry, sir." She looked straight ahead again as the singing resumed.

Morse smiled as he saw Ava coming out of the chapel but waited until her conversations with the other students finished before deciding to approach her. Ava waved to them before turning her attentions to Morse and met him halfway. They stood in front of each other and stayed like that for what seemed like a long time. Ava suddenly let out a small laugh, which made Morse follow suit.

"Hello," he said. "Your singing in there… One of my favourite hymns."

"Is it really?" she asked as they began walking.

"Yes," Morse replied. He looked at her briefly.

"I didn't know you were into your hymns. You do not look the type."

Morse bowed his head with a smile. She got him completely.

"We're having a recital soon," Ava told him. "The choirmaster is determined we make a good impression."

"Oh, really?" Morse was immediately interested.

"No one central to your investigation if that's what you're implying." It was now Morse's turn to let out a small laugh. This girl was incredible! "In two weeks," Ava continued. "The main concert hall." Morse tried not to get too excited by that bit of news. _Was that an invite?_

"I just wanted to see how you were, Miss Ava. I was a bit concerned the last time we spoke." Ava suddenly stopped walking. She was a few steps ahead of him. Morse called her name again and she turned. The look on her face distressed Morse so much he ran towards her. "What is the matter?"

"You made a mistake seeing him," Ava eventually said. "As soon as you and your colleague left, he made sure the students suffered for it. Gave them extra work to do, more assignments, more texts to read." She began to break down. "I can't do this anymore, Morse. I know I am in a completely different faculty, but this is getting too much. He will wipe out the whole intake for this year the way he is going!" Morse looked into Ava's eyes. He wanted to take her into his arms, to hold her, to tell her it will all be okay, but he knew he couldn't. He knew things would not be okay whilst this case remains unsolved, not to mention unethical if someone caught him. He made that mistake once. Never again.

"Endeavour," he suddenly blurted out. "My name… It's Endeavour." Ava's eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. For a moment, the two of them were in their own bubble, like the whole of the university melted around them. Ava tilted her head to the side and a smile came over her features.

"Wow!" she said in complete fascination. "Endeavour. That is a wonderful name."

"Thank you." Morse turned bright red. Ava smiled at him. Morse found himself wanting to throw caution to the wind, but before he could even contemplate it, a huge scream echoed in the distance. Ava looked behind Morse's shoulder, and worry came back over her features again.

"AVA!" She saw one of the choir wave across. "AVA! COME QUICKLY!"

Morse looked behind him as the student ran around a corner. He caught Ava's glance and they both ran across the gravel towards a very familiar building.

They ran through the big iron door and down a corridor towards a room – one which Morse instantly recognised. He caught sight of the distressed student standing outside and followed Ava in. He stopped in his tracks as he saw what was in front of him. Ava, a few steps away in front, covered her mouth in shock. She turned to look at Morse who ran forward to hold her. He couldn't believe what he saw.

* * *

Max de Bryn looked grimly at the scene in front of him. Never had he seen such a mess. He delicately walked over to the victim and gently pulled back his head, looking at the wound across the throat. He settled the head down back on the desk and got to work.

Ava was shaking all over. She was seated on a chair outside the room, Trewlove next to her. Her teeth chattered on the glass as she tried to take a drink of water, but all her eyes were focused on was the scene ahead of her. Morse and Thursday walked down the corridor, the previous telling the latter of what happened. They passed the two girls as they walked inside. Thursday was taken aback with what met him. Morse stayed a distance away, the obvious known but he also wanted to keep an eye on Ava.

De Bryn looked up at Thursday, the look on his face saying it all. "Unpleasant, isn't it?" he said matter of factly. "Our Master here certainly meant to have suffered." Thursday walked closer, the opened eyed and bloodied head of Dorchester-Baynes in front of him. There was blood everywhere: across the desk, on the walls, on the carpet, even on the windows where a word was untidily written in red. It was bordering on the verge of gruesome, and Thursday found himself not wanting to stay too long either. "Cause of death was a clean slit across the throat," de Bryn continued. He looked at the hands and the back of the head. "I can see some bruising across his hand and a wound at the back of his head, but I will certainly confirm that in due course." He noticed Morse looking in the direction of the doorway. "Bit too much is it?" Morse turned his head but on seeing the blood turned back again. Thursday noticed to whom he was looking at and walked towards him.

"You feeling okay, Morse?" he asked as the photographer snapped away. Morse turned to look at his superior.

"Erm… Yes," he tried to say.

"Who is the girl outside? Did she find the body?"

"Yes, sir." Thursday knew Morse was lying. He noticed the way he was looking at her.

"Name?" he asked. Morse said nothing, the obvious concern on his features. "Morse! Her name?"

"Oh…um…" He looked at Thursday again. "Ava. Her name is Ava." He followed Thursday out of the door.

Ava was still shaking, her hands clutching the glass tumbler. Her legs were quivering, and her feet were making hollow noises as the short heels of her shoes tapped against the floor. Morse now was killing himself with worry, but knew he had to put on a face of professionalism in this instance. He watched as Thursday crouched down in front of her.

"I'm Detective Chief Inspector Thursday," he said kindly. "Can I ask your name?" Ava stared at the room ahead of her. Trewlove looked up at Morse and saw the look on his face. She realised then who she was.

"A-Ava…" The reply came albeit shakily. "A-Ava Lockwood."

"Did you see what happened, Miss Lockwood?"

"N-no. I heard one of the choir scream and I followed him in. I-I was coming out from rehearsal."

"Did you know the Master well, Miss Lockwood?" Morse gave Thursday a look which could only be described as aghast. He wanted to butt in but couldn't. Trewlove watched his actions carefully.

"Everyone knew him," Ava replied. She looked up as the men from pathology arrived with the body bag. She shakily took another sip of her glass of water, the sound of the chattering getting louder.

"Are you a student here, Miss Lockwood?" At that moment, Ava began to hyperventilate. She was struggling to breathe. Trewlove gave her a brown paper bag from inside her shoulder bag.

"Breathe slowly into this, Miss Lockwood," she instructed her gently. "Take deep breaths." Ava did as was told and gradually her breathing returned to normal.

"Thank you," she said, the bag resting on her lap. Thursday stood up and took another look at Morse who was staring at her, fixated. Max de Bryn came out following his colleagues with the body down the corridor.

"WPC Trewlove, take Miss Lockwood back to her room and stay with her until we have finished. We may need to speak to her before we leave." Thursday walked back inside. "Morse!" he called out. Morse suddenly snapped out of his trance and caught sight of Trewlove indicating towards the doorway. He took one more look at Ava and followed Thursday inside.

"Come on, Miss Lockwood," she said to Ava in a soft voice. "Let's get you out of here." Ava nodded and the two of them stood up, walking away. Morse took one more look before getting back to work. He took a brave look at the blood splattering on the walls before turning his attention to the windows. Thursday meanwhile looked at the desk where the pool of blood covered what was the beautiful piece of furniture. Was there another note perhaps? Another clue? Anything that could possibly link these deaths together? As he began looking, Morse wandered over a short distance to some of the framed certificates lining the walls. Some were left dangling on hinges, but most had the glass broken or cracked. The crunch of broken glass under his feet caught Morse's attention and he crouched down. His eyes made a straight line from his feet, up the wall to a gap where one quite large certificate stood. He got back up to have a look.

"Sir?" he called out. "One certificate is missing." Thursday left the desk for a moment. He stood next to Morse. "You see the marking on the wall?"

"Yes, I do. Which one is it?" He watched as Morse looked at next one and tilted his head to the right in the direction it was hung. He read the words to himself and went into one of his thoughtful moods again.

"Achievements," he replied. "Faculty achievements." His thoughts then turned to the shroud he noticed the first time he was there and walked over to the opposite side of the room, to the corner where he saw it, but not to his surprise he found it missing. Thursday now was back at the desk carefully searching. He then came across a blood stained paper tucked under a tray. He asked the photographer to take a picture of that, the broken glass on the floor and the disturbed certificates on the wall, and also to make forensics aware of the paper and to make that a priority. It was becoming obvious that nothing more could be found, including the murder weapon, so both he and Morse left.

* * *

Trewlove met them both outside. Morse decided to walk off ahead of them. Both Thursday and Trewlove watched as he disappeared into the distance before she informed that the campus doctor had given Ava a sleeping pill, and that she stayed with her until she had fallen asleep.

"Sir, about Ava."

"What about her?"

"Wasn't she the one who tried to go into Lucy Leyton's room that evening?" Thursday thought about it and realised she was right.

"Yes," he said. "Well done, Trewlove."

"Thank you, sir. I knew I recognised her somewhere before."

"Did she give you the name of the student who found him?"

"No, sir. She didn't say much when we got back to her room. That tablet she was given was quick to come into effect."

"Never mind." He paused.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Yes. Do me a favour, Trewlove. Go straight to forensics. Find out if they have completed work on the ring Morse gave to them. Did you find out anything more on the London side?"

"Dead blank," Trewlove replied shaking her head.

"All right. Get back down to the station and report back to me as soon as you can." Trewlove nodded and left. She walked by the car where Morse was waiting. He saw the look on her face before seeing Thursday approach him a minute or two later. Morse knew he was in trouble but said nothing as they got in. "Not a word, Morse," he told him. "You better hope Bright doesn't get wind of this, because I don't think I can defend you this time… Not that I condone what just happened either." He looked at him. "She is fast asleep," he said inevitably. "Campus doctor gave her a sleeping pill." Morse's facial features relaxed in relief as he began to drive. At least for now, she was safe.

* * *

News about Dorchester-Baynes' death spread throughout the university, reaching other campuses. The theology students didn't know what to make of it. Some were in shock, others celebratory and the rest in limbo. Exams were approaching and with no one in the driving seat, what did that say about their degree? No matter, it seemed a huge cloud had lifted and at last everyone could breathe. Word even reached the offices of The Mail where a notice of death was printed. But it was at the university where you could see and feel the most obvious of reactions.

* * *

Reginald Bright read the death notice in the paper and sat down at his desk. Even if he did know already, this was still a shock to the system. He settled the paper down and once again brought out the folder he kept hidden away. He opened it to take a look, going through the papers inside one at a time. One caught his eye and he took it out to read it properly. He wondered if he should release this to Thursday, but instead decided to keep it for a little bit longer. He wanted to hear an update first. Bright put the papers back together and placed the folder back in his drawer. All he was going to do now was await news of the funeral.

* * *

Morse pinned the photos of Dorchester-Baynes' room to the evidence board and made notes underneath. Even the monochrome colour of the prints still didn't make this any easier to view. He then pinned one of the ring he found underneath the picture of the first victim and then stood back to take a look. It still wasn't looking like there being a breakthrough. Trewlove reported back to Thursday that the inscription on the ring was vandalised and therefore unable to decipher. Likewise, with the design of the ring itself. It was hacked into, the main points picked away. All that was still pending was the paper Thursday found on the desk and any other bits collected from the scene.

Strange walked in and straight away noticed the nearly full board ahead of him. He walked over to his desk and hung his coat and hat on the stand. He then stood next to Morse and took a look himself.

"Grim finding, hey, matey?" he said of the Master's room.

"Did you find anything more of that address in London?"

"Not a thing. It looks like one of us will be heading down there with Thursday very soon." He then nudged Morse playfully. "So, what's this I hear about a girl you've met?" he asked with a glint in his eye. Morse took one look at Strange completely unimpressed. "Come on, matey. You can tell me." He nudged Morse once again but wasn't prepared for his reaction.

"Look, Jim!" he shouted. "Sometimes you can be so bloody stupid! You deserve to be back in uniform. God knows why they made you sergeant in the first place. You don't do your job properly and you think everything is a complete joke. Well, the only joke round here is you, Strange, and everyone knows it!" He stopped as he knew he overstepped the mark. He noticed Thursday standing in the doorway staring at him hard faced.

"Morse! In my office!" Morse realised what had just happened and had no choice but to follow him in. Strange meanwhile, although embarrassed, shrugged it off instead and took his seat at his desk even though he knew all his colleagues' eyes were watching him silently agreeing.

Thursday offered Morse a seat and made it clear he would not take no for an answer. Morse sat down still reeling from his words to Strange, but he also got to the point where he couldn't have cared less. Thursday sighed heavily.

"What am I to do with you, Morse?" he told him. "I honestly cannot work you out: one minute you are your usual inquisitive self and the next you are screaming at everyone. You are developing a short fuse."

"I know, sir. Sorry, sir."

"You know I should really be taking you off the case, but I need you. You are right about Jim, but I can't just demote him… As much as I'd like to." He saw the half guilty look on Morse's face. "You have to stop this involvement with Ava Lockwood. I am telling this to you as a friend now, Morse." He saw the now lost look on Morse's features. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, sir, I am." Still Morse couldn't stop thinking of her.

"The funeral has been scheduled as soon as Max releases the body. It will be a typically Oxford affair. The two of us will be going along with Superintendent Bright. Make sure you find out as much as you can and conduct yourself properly."

"Yes, sir."

"It looks like I will have to go to London. I will take Strange with me which means you will be in charge, Morse. I am putting this department under your care. I don't want to find it in pieces when I come back."

Morse now looked at Thursday head on realising the responsibility he had just been given and nodded. He also knew really what he meant. He thanked him and stood up to leave.

"Morse?"

He turned. "Yes, sir?"

"This is your last chance."

Morse's face fell slightly as he opened the door and walked out. He noticed a huge envelope on his desk and called back the uniformed officer who had just delivered it. "When did this come in?" he asked.

"Just now, sir," the officer replied.

"How long ago?"

"The past five minutes…" Morse suddenly ran past him and down the corridor. He rushed out of the exit and down the steps, but he was too late. He bent over slightly to get his breath back and looked all around the station grounds. He swore under his breath and kicked himself for not getting there quick enough. Up above watching him from his window, Bright looked upon his detective's actions thoughtfully if not concisely. He watched as Morse walked back up the steps and inside before walking away himself.

* * *

Max de Bryn released the body to the university the next day and preparations began for the Master's funeral. As Thursday mentioned to Morse it was going to be a typical Oxford service, which meant a lot of pomp and nonsense with all the Fellows, Masters, Dons, Deans in attendance as well as some of his student success stories past and present. The Mayor of Oxford was also invited. The bell tolled solemnly the following morning, signalling the service that was going to take place at the church. Robed personnel started arriving in big groups, chatting amongst themselves as they walked up the steps. Others congregated outside and some were already inside.

* * *

Reginald Bright, now in his old Army uniform, looked at himself in the mirror. This was a goodbye to someone who served in the same regiment as him, an old friend. An old and now changed friend, who let his new status get in the way of who he truly was – and now he was dead. Bright placed his cap on his head and stepped back taking one more look. He grabbed his white gloves and left his office.

* * *

Morse arrived at Thursday's house in a suit he just picked at random out of his wardrobe. He still looked decent, but a bit mismatched. Win walked down the stairs and stopped at the bottom step noticing him. She looked at him strangely, but also like he was her son. Morse shuffled awkwardly and couldn't meet her gaze. It was only when he heard her chuckle that he looked up.

"You are going to a funeral, Morse," she said in amusement, holding a laundry basket. "You look about the same size as Sam. Come on, come upstairs. I'll get you sorted." She smiled warmly, and Morse reluctantly followed her up. Thursday walked out of the living room adjusting his tie.

"Oh, not now, Win!" he complained catching Morse disappearing up the stairs. "We have to leave soon!"

"Oh, stop your moaning, Fred!" he heard Win's voice coming from a bedroom. "He will be down in a minute." Thursday tutted in annoyance as he picked up his hat from the table under the mirror. This was all he needed! They were supposed to meet Bright in town and she was delaying them. He heard Win tell Morse he looked much better, and he turned as he walked down the stairs.

"That is Sam's!" he pointed out noticing that Morse was wearing his son's jacket.

"Stop your whining, Fred." Win followed Morse down the steps. "He needs to look his best. Just ignore him, Morse."

"Thank you for the jacket, Mrs Thursday," Morse told her gratefully as Thursday opened the front door. "I'll return it to you at the end of the day."

"No rush, Morse. Your coat is where you left it. Just come by anytime."

"We're going now, Win." Thursday was now becoming very impatient. He made sure he kissed his wife however before rushing out. "Love you," he said to her.

"Yes, so you should!" Win shook her head slowly as the door slammed. It was her turn now to tut in annoyance as she walked to the kitchen.

* * *

A smart polished car came down the street and slowly pulled into a spare space, gently coming to a halt. Chief Superintendent Bright waited for the officer to open the door for him before he got out. The sun immediately caught him hitting the peak of his cap. He shielded his eyes briefly before thanking his driver and dismissing him. People were arriving at the already packed church, most in university robes and their female companions in black dresses. There were others clad in black suits. Morse and Thursday crossed the road opposite as the car drove past them. The elder of the two noticed the number of mourners mingling outside the church grounds, as did Morse, which got his interest.

"Go ahead, Morse," Thursday said to him in a low voice. "See what you can find out. There may be some enemies of his amongst them."

"Yes, sir." Morse ran off. Bright watched as he ran inside the grounds.

"How is he getting on?" he asked as Thursday approached him.

"Who Morse? He wants this case over and done with."

"As do I, Fred. But what I mean is _how_ is he getting on?" Thursday glanced at Bright wondering what he was getting at.

"Sir?" he asked as a group of youths ran towards them nearly knocking Bright over. One of them, a tall cheeky looking lad with dark hair, stopped to see if he was okay. Upon seeing Bright's uniform, he stood to attention saluting him.

"Ah, an Army lad, I see." Bright saluted, taking note of the lad in plain fatigues with a beret on his head. "At ease."

"Thank you, sir. Are you all right, sir?" he asked. "I am so sorry I knocked into you."

"How old are you, soldier?"

"Seventeen, sir." He looked round as his friends started to call him. "Ah, howay, man! I'll be there in a minute!" he called back and apologised. He looked at Thursday and smiled. "Are you a copper, like?" he asked him.

"Yes," Thursday replied in amusement. The lad's eyes widened, and a huge grin came over his face.

"Champion!" he exclaimed.

"What is your name?" Bright asked.

"Robert, sir," the lad replied. "Robert Lewis."

"What are you doing here in Oxford?"

"Recce," he replied.

"Robbie, man!" one of his friends called out again.

"I'm coming! Wait, will ya!" He seemed embarrassed. He looked at Bright. "Sorry again for barging into you, sir." He stood again to attention and saluted. Bright dismissed him and the boy ran off, his distinctive accented voice calling after his friends who ran down the street.

"What a nice, young lad," Bright commented. "Has the makings of a good officer."

"Very much so," Thursday said in agreement. "He can always apply to the police force if it doesn't work out. We can do more with recruits like him."

Bright looked at him. "Well, as long as he stays up in the North East if he does then I have no objection."

"Oh, I don't know, sir." They walked into the church grounds. "He seems polite and enthusiastic enough. Anyone can apply for a transfer nowadays."

"Oh, come now, Thursday!" Bright scoffed at the idea. "A Geordie officer? Here in Oxford with that accent?! The world has gone mad." Thursday tried not to chuckle as they met up with some of the robed gentlemen, Bright doing the honours and Thursday shaking hands with them.

Morse meanwhile was standing on the steps of the church observing the attendees seeing if there was anyone that may or may not be of interest. He watched as they all filed into the church and followed Thursday and Bright inside. The church was a beautiful English gothic style building with stone pillars and regal features. It was full to the rafters with the gallery used as extra seating. The huge organ was straight ahead, and the choir were positioned nearby. The Master's coffin lay in state at the top of the nave near the pulpit where the university vicar was going to take his place. Morse sat down in his designated seat next to Bright and Thursday and noticed the Chancellor taking his in the distance. He looked directly to the choir hoping to see Ava and wasn't disappointed. She was dressed in the usual choir clothing of red and white, her hair neat and tidy. He watched as she looked up and her face lit up slightly upon seeing him. Morse gave her a discreet smile and for the first time she blushed. Thursday noticed immediately what was going on and nudged Morse in warning like he was telling his son to behave. Morse cleared his throat and bowed his head to contemplate in fake prayer. Not a moment later, they all had to stand as the service began.

The eulogies were given one by one with many of Dorchester-Baynes' friends telling the congregation what kind of person he was and how he would be missed. Morse scanned the faces of the students all disagreeing completely with what they were saying, knowing he wasn't this glorious person they were hearing being described, that if they had a chance to speak, they would only be happy to tell them a few home truths. One of them was Ava, but such as her composure and the fact she was in the choir, she displayed a fake look of sorrow. She looked up suddenly as another robed gentleman took to the pulpit and Morse took note of it. His eyes fixated to the left as the gentleman prepared to speak.

"Richard was a theologian," he began. "He loved the subject and loved teaching it. I remember when he started here at the university. He saw how much in need the faculty was in terms of funding and improvement and got that funding through sheer guts and determination. It was only natural he became Master – he turned that faculty on its head." He paused and Morse looked again at the students, who were trying so hard to bite their tongues. "He only wanted the best of the best, which is why he set a standard so high that most fail the entrance exams. Those who passed would only benefit through his set curriculum, through the lectures and his sheer enthusiasm for the subject. His turnover of graduates has always been in the top three. One of his famous students was his protégée, Lucy Leyton." Morse and Thursday sat up straight, their attention now on high alert. "Lucy came to Oxford with not much to her name. She came from an ordinary school in an ordinary town. But Richard saw potential and turned her from this shy and unconfident child into one of his success stories, if not his best. That was Richard – he sees potential in all his students. He wanted them to become the best they can be and for that, the faculty and university is now poorer in his passing. God bless you, Richard." He looked to the closed coffin and bowed his head in respect. As he walked down the steps, Morse looked at Thursday, who nodded. This was one person they would need to track down after. Morse watched as the speaker sat down in his seat on the opposite side of the aisle and looked back up at Ava who was giving him a discreet signal. He turned his head briefly and blinked twice at her before he and the congregation stood up again for the final prayer.

As everyone filed out respectfully after the service was concluded, Morse waited behind. Thursday was again dragged to yet another meet and greet with Bright, but that was fine – he knew what Morse was going to hopefully do. Dorchester-Baynes' coffin was now on its way to his burial leaving the church empty. Morse found himself going back in time as he stared down the aisle to when he was younger, when his mother used to go to service. He remembered his own time here when he was a student, when he was also part of the choir. Things hadn't changed much since his day, but he also wondered what it would be like if he didn't leave to join the police force. Morse was so into his thoughts, he didn't see a familiar figure waving to him in front of the organ. Only when his name was called, the echo filling the building, did he snap out of it.

"This way!" she said indicating a door near where she was standing. She quickly left and Morse ran down the left hand side to follow her. He stepped out on to the gravel at the back of the church, which was desolate and empty. He realised where he was and where he knew she had gone and walked the short distance to another building. He walked down the corridor and inside a huge hall, which had various photographs and paintings and a very long table running down the middle.

Ava was standing by some framed photographs, her white and red robes draped over her arms. She was dressed in a skirt and turtle neck sweater with flat shoes on her feet. She turned her head and smiled at Morse who walked over. He looked at the pictures on the wall.

"You sung beautifully," he said.

"I didn't sing," she replied, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I couldn't. Not for him. I just pretended." She felt Morse's presence close by, closer than he had been before. Morse also felt the same with her. He was so close that he wanted to kiss her but thought better of it. Ava sighed, a tad disappointed, as she felt Morse step away a little.

"What are these pictures?" he asked.

"Richard's faculty," Ava replied bitterly. "He thought it be perfect if he put his picture up along with all the pictures of his students, his 'prides and joy'." Morse walked across eyeing each picture carefully. He stopped at this year's in question and noticed one in particular.

"Who is this one, Ava?"

"Oh, that is Katie. Katie Kinsella. She was one of Richard's pet projects."

"Pet projects?" Morse didn't like the idea or sound of that. Ava stood back next to him. "Poor girl studied her heart out, thought it was a privilege to study at Oxford. I don't think she was cut out for it though."

"Did he dismiss her?"

"Who Katie? No! She passed her mid-semester exams but thought to go before she found herself to be pushed."

"Has she left the university?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. But she has left the faculty that I can definitely tell you." Morse looked again at Ava, her eyes on the picture. "Lucy saw she was struggling and took her under her wing. If she didn't, I doubt she would have lasted five minutes."

"So, Lucy was her mentor?"

"Absolutely!" Ava nodded. She could feel Morse's arm touching hers. She tried not to notice how nice he looked either.

"Go out with me, Miss Lockwood!" Morse suddenly said. Ava felt her face flush.

"You sure that is wise, Endeavour?" she asked slowly, but also trying to contain the joy within herself. Morse heard Thursday's words of warning echo in his mind. But he had gone beyond caring. This girl mattered too much to him… He was falling in love with her.

"I need your help," he said, completely changing the subject.

"He is the Politics Don," Ava replied turning to face him. "His name is Peter Allenby." Morse looked at Ava and smiled. To his surprise, Ava tiptoed to give him the softest kiss on the cheek. "I'd better go," she said to him.

"Friday evening, seven-thirty. I'll meet you underneath the Bridge of Sighs!" Ava smiled but left without responding.

Morse touched his cheek and felt where he had been kissed. He couldn't believe what had just happened! A huge smile came over his features before he looked back at Katie Kinsella's picture. Morse suddenly went back into pensive mode for a little while, before he took note of the time and walked out to meet with Thursday.

* * *

Chief Superintendent Bright sat down slowly at his desk. He just heard the cause of Dorchester-Baynes' death. Morse, with his tie slightly loosened, stood in the background watching on. Bright poured himself a drink and offered one to his officers. Both declined. They were surprised when he quickly poured himself another.

"A slit to the throat," he repeated slowly. "A blunt force trauma to the back of the head?"

"I am so sorry to tell you this today, sir," Thursday said to him.

"No, no, that is all right. Best to hear from you than someone else." He packed the glass and tumbler away in his cupboard before straightening himself up. "So… Any further progress?"

"Morse found a ring near where the first victim was found, but forensics have drawn a blank. It seems it was vandalised before being dumped."

"Wasn't the first victim found with a bruised ring finger?"

"Yes, sir, she was. The items we found in Lucy Leyton's room were all clean. No fingerprints, nothing."

"Yes, well, that is no surprise. What about the items taken from Richard's office?

"Still awaiting results, sir."

Bright nodded. He then turned his attentions to Morse. "How is that head of yours, Morse?" Morse stood upright.

"Better, sir," he replied.

"Good… That is good." He paused. "The eulogies at the service were fantastic, weren't they? All spoke highly of Richard and rightly so." Morse and Thursday looked at each other briefly. "He was an old Army friend of mine. We served in the same regiment. Even then he was always the philosopher. He took such an interest in it. Did you know he studied at Cambridge? He gained his doctorate after the War. He was knighted because of his work at the university." Morse took note of that but didn't write it down. It was interesting that an old Cambridge boy would take up a position at Oxford. He wanted to revisit that and soon.

"Sir, we would like to question one of the Dons." Bright looked again at Morse.

"You don't need my permission, Morse," he said. "Is he the one who spoke about Lucy?"

"Yes, sir. He may hold some information that could be of some use."

Bright nodded. "Fine, yes. Do what you have to do, but please make sure you report back to me."

"Yes, sir." Morse grabbed Sam's jacket beside him, and he and Thursday made their way out. However, Bright straight away called Thursday back in.

"Don't worry, go," he told Morse. "I'll see you later." Morse felt it odd that Thursday should see Bright without him, but he decided to delve more into that bit of info and walked off.

* * *

Morse was looking through a book about Cambridge University he got from the archive room. He turned the pages skimming across the words but took more notice of the pictures. Despite the rivalry between the two institutes, in particular a certain Boat Race, Morse could not help but be impressed by the facilities. But such as his bias towards Oxford, he found himself regarding Cambridge as 'irrelevant' and 'second rate'. As he turned the pages looking for something that would answer his question about Dorchester-Baynes, Shirley Trewlove walked in. She saw Morse swotting through the book. She stood beside him, looking at what he was reading.

"Cambridge?!" she exclaimed in mock fashion. "Morse, how could you!" Morse looked up and smiled at the cheeky look on Trewlove's face. He motioned the seat opposite and she took it, taking off her hat and placing it on the desk. "How was the funeral?"

"The same as any other," Morse replied. He seemed bothered by something and turned the pages faster.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something about Dorchester-Baynes and Cambridge. Superintendent Bright mentioned he was a former student." Trewlove thought about things for a minute. She took her bag off her shoulder and slung it behind her.

"Dorchester-Baynes was the Master of Theology, wasn't he?" she asked.

"Yes, he was."

"And you said he studied at Cambridge?"

Morse looked up and noticed Trewlove's brain ticking away. "Tell me, Trewlove," he said.

"Well… I had a cousin who studied there or at least wanted to. It was a long time ago."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. He decided against it because of the Faculty of Divinity."

"Faculty of Divinity?" Morse sat up straight and flicked through the pages until he found the section on the faculty.

"Yes. My cousin wasn't religious, so he decided against it because…"

"Theology, Philosophy and Religion are studied there!" Morse finished. He had an idea. "Trewlove, give the university a call. See what you can find out about Dorchester-Baynes. There might be another link between him and Lucy Leyton."

"Lucy Leyton?" Trewlove asked. "But she got her doctorate here."

"I don't think she did," Morse said. "I remember the folder I found saying specifically 'PhD' – Cambridge issues PhDs for those subjects." He opened the drawer and took out the envelope that came for him. Just as he thought, the missing folders were inside. Trewlove's eyes widened.

"How…?" She watched as Morse went through them, only to see him despair when the one he wanted wasn't in there. "Morse?" she asked.

"The folder…it isn't here!" He slammed the drawer shut sending an almighty bang throughout the empty office. Trewlove backed off slightly not liking this sudden burst of anger. Morse dropped his elbows on the desk and covered his face in his hands. Trewlove leaned forward and gently took his hands away.

"I'll find out for you," she told him softly. "Don't worry. If what you say is true, then I am sure the college will confirm it. We will get there." Morse looked into Trewlove's eyes and took note of the encouragement she was giving him. The pretty blonde officer grabbed the book and turned the telephone towards her. She was determined to help in any way she could.

* * *

It was dark inside the room with hardly any light coming through. Only the shadows of the furniture acted like a guide of sorts. The creak of the door and some footsteps were heard along with the bright light of a torch. It was being waved around downwards so not to attract attention. The footsteps gathered pace as the torch's light guided the way past the long table. The trail of light suddenly went upwards towards a row of framed pictures and settled on one - the one of Katie Kinsella. A gloved hand tore it from the wall and disappeared along with the light of the torch, the sound of the door closing shut.

* * *

Doctor Peter Allenby was a smart, but pleasant fellow. He carried a cheery disposition about him, which gained the respect of all his students. He was of slightly large build, with wispy dark blond hair and brown eyes. He was also known for his rather relaxed dress sense – which made him popular with the students but gained the rather painful scourge of his fellow professionals. Today though, he was dressed smartly.

He greeted his students as he walked breezily though the campus. This was in complete contrast to Dorchester-Baynes' – it was a lot lighter, welcoming, friendly. The students seemed far more relaxed and open, sharing jokes, laughing. Some were sitting on the grassy areas reading their books. It was almost casual, how a campus should be. It was lunch time and an unusually lovely day with lots of sunshine. One of the students stopped Allenby in his tracks to show him something in his textbook. He got the seal of approval with a thumb's up before Allenby walked away again towards the lecture hall.

He stood by the lectern to gather up some papers. There was a big desk and a blackboard behind him. Allenby placed these papers on the desk before erasing off the last lecture notes on the blackboard and picking up a stub of white chalk. As he began writing down the title of the next lecture, a sound echoed through the hall. Allenby looked round to see Morse and Thursday standing by the entrance. Allenby gestured towards the desk and the two officers obliged. Morse parked himself against the lectern whilst Thursday sat down at edge of the desk.

Allenby underlined the title before placing the chalk back down on the ledge and smacking his fingers on his trousers leaving a powder mark. Straight away, the two officers knew this would be quite an approachable interview judging by the fact he wasn't in robes.

"Good afternoon, I am Detective Sergeant Morse and this is Detective Chief Inspector Thursday. Are you Doctor Peter Allenby?"

"Indeed, I am," Allenby replied pleasantly. "Excuse the mess, gentlemen, but my last lecturer didn't think to pack up. My guess is he must have been hungry." Thursday related to that statement, but Morse just wanted to keep asking questions. Allenby took his seat behind the desk. "Now… What can I do for you?"

"We heard your eulogy for Dorchester-Baynes at his funeral," Morse replied. "In particular, you mentioned Lucy Leyton."

"Ah yes. Lucy. She was probably his only major success of the past few years. As I said, she came from nowhere and Richard took her under his tutelage. I remember when I first saw her – she was very withdrawn. Shy, but extremely clever."

"Doctor Allenby, you do know about the body we found on campus not long ago."

"Yes, unfortunately I do." Allenby's face became serious, almost regrettable. "No one wants that or needs that happening to them. The students must have been petrified."

"We think it might be Lucy that was found, but no one seems to know or prepared to make an ID."

"Really?" Allenby found that to be strange. "How very odd. So, she has been in the morgue all this time?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Poor child. Such a waste."

"Doctor Allenby, we know Lucy was in the middle of what looked like a project. Now I know you are in a completely different faculty, but you and Dorchester-Baynes were good friends. Did he know what it was about?" Allenby looked at Thursday and shook his head.

"No, sorry. Richard was known for bragging about his students, but he didn't mention anything about a project. Could this be relevant? I would like to help if I could."

"My detective sergeant here found a folder in her room. It looked like part of the project she was undertaking. However, it was untitled."

Allenby thought about it for a moment. But again, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. I honestly don't know."

"You said you have met Lucy before," Morse said. "Would it be possible if you can come and make an ID?" To his surprise, Allenby was more than willing.

"I can try. I must warn you though, the only time I saw her was when she arrived, which was a hell of a long time ago. People change." Morse and Thursday looked at each other finally hoping this was the breakthrough they needed.

"Thank you, Doctor Allenby," Thursday said gratefully. "We will be in touch." He stood up and walked past Morse, who kept position by the lectern.

"Doctor Allenby, one more thing: do you have a student here by the name of Katie Kinsella?

"Young Katie? Yes, I do. She was one of Richard's rejects. Shame though. From what I heard she applied herself. Would you like to speak to her? She is just in that room over there." He pointed to a door at the other side of the hall. Thursday looked at Morse wondering what he was up to, but he got a look in return that asked for patience. The two officers followed Allenby across the hall and through the door into a small office where a young girl was standing in front of a bookshelf, her back to them. "Katie?" he called. "These two policemen would like a little chat with you. Are you okay to talk?"

Morse grew suspicious upon seeing the girl. That was confirmed when she turned to look at them.

"Yes, sirs, how can I help?" she asked with a smile. Both Thursday and Morse were stunned at what they saw – the girl looked scarily familiar...

* * *

Katie placed two cups of tea in front of Morse and Thursday before settling down with a glass of water. They were still in the small office at a small table. Allenby had long departed to put the finishing touches to his upcoming lecture leaving the three of them alone. Morse studied the girl as she took a drink and broke off a piece of chocolate from a medium sized bar in the middle of the table. She offered some to both detectives, but they politely declined. Her hair was pinned back in a half pony tail fastened with a big bow. Her fringe was short, above her eyebrows, and she had a bit of sun damaged skin, which complimented her instead of hindering her looks. Thursday asked her about herself and she took a sip of her drink.

"I was so made up about going to Oxford," she recalled. "I remember getting my letter of acceptance, and my parents being so proud! My mother was in tears."

"I'm sure you were excited," Thursday said.

"Nervous more like! God knows why I chose theology. I guess I wanted a subject that wasn't like English or Maths. Maybe I got caught in the moment, who knows!"

"Did you take an entrance exam?" Morse asked.

"Sure did! That was a performance I can tell you." Thursday smiled, amused at the tone of her voice. "I just about scraped in. As I said, I didn't think carefully about it. I didn't think I would be in over my head like I was."

"Did Dorchester-Baynes help you?"

"That old codger! Yeah! He was all right, I guess. He seemed to take a shine to me though. I have no idea why. I guess he felt sorry for me because of my background." She broke off another piece of chocolate.

"Your background?" Morse asked intrigued.

"Yeah! I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, put it that way."

"This may be hard for you, Katie, but did you know Lucy Leyton?" He took note of the way her face lit up.

"Lucy was brilliant! She looked after me. I don't think I would have got through my first year without her."

"Why did you leave?" Thursday asked.

"I had enough," Katie replied without hesitation. "I finally realised and admitted I was taking on more than I could handle. So, I wrote a letter to the Master to tell him I was leaving."

"How did he take it?"

"He wasn't happy, but he did not object either." Katie looked at Morse head on. "Look, I know he wasn't the easiest of people to get on with. In fact, if we all could choose, we'd send him packing, but all he wanted was the best out of his flock. I guess I wasn't one of them. No big deal."

"So why politics?" Thursday asked. "It's hugely different from theology."

Katie chuckled. "Would you believe it is a lot easier? There are so many interesting topics to discuss and to learn about. This is the late 1960s, Inspector! Times are changing. We women are coming up. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we had a female Prime Minister any time soon! Imagine if that happened – that would set the cat amongst the pigeons!" There was enthusiasm in her eyes and you could tell she was really in her element. She offered the two detectives a refill, but they again declined. They said their goodbyes and all three stood up.

"Thank you, Miss Kinsella," Thursday said to her with a smile.

"You're welcome, Detective Chief Inspector," Katie replied.

"Just one more thing, Miss Kinsella." Thursday again had to wait for Morse. He wondered why he always had to ask a question just as they were about to leave.

"Shoot, Detective Sergeant." She carried the cups and saucers to another table ready to be collected.

"Did you borrow a book from the Radcliffe Camera recently?"

"The history library?" Katie turned to look at him. "All students borrow books. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, we just recently received notice of a small theft. I'm just asking around."

"Well, I can assure you it wasn't me. Besides, it's against the rules to take a book outside the library, is it not?" Morse didn't answer. Katie looked at them and then shrugged. "If you need any help, just come back. As long as you don't mind your ears getting burned off!"

Thursday smiled. "Thank you, Miss Kinsella. We'll bear that in mind." The two detectives bid Katie a good rest of the day before leaving.

"Wait, you can't go through there. The lecture has started." Morse looked through the glass and knew it to be true. He saw Allenby starting his afternoon lecture on racial relations, the Conservative Party and one Enoch Powell. "Go this way, straight down that corridor. There is an exit at the other end." She opened a door at the opposite side of the office for them.

"Thank you, Miss Kinsella," Thursday replied following the instructions Katie gave him. He and Morse walked down the corridor, the younger making sure they were out of sight before speaking.

"It didn't work," he said.

"She's too smart for that," Thursday replied as they walked out into the sunshine. "What is this about the library?"

"Oh, no reason. Just a hunch. She was too casual about Lucy. For someone she classed as a mentor, she came across as aloof. Same with Dorchester-Baynes."

"He had his fans it looked like." They walked across the grounds.

"When are you going to London, sir?"

"Oh, I've taken care of that. I'm sending Trewlove down with Strange." Morse couldn't help but be disappointed with that bit of news. He had hoped Thursday would be able to trust him in that regard, but obviously not. He decided against pursuing the reasons and followed his superior out of the campus grounds.

* * *

That evening, Morse was having a very rare time out. He was sitting in his flat reading a copy of The Mail. One of his favourite concertos was playing on the turntable and the living area had a much brighter amber glow. He reached over to pick up his half empty glass of Scotch when he heard a rattle at the front door. He looked straight at it wondering who or what it could be. He set aside the paper and got up, still carrying the glass in his hand. A small white envelope was waiting for him on the floor. Forever intrigued, Morse bent down to pick it up and walked back inside. He turned the envelope over and found it be addressed to him, neatly written. He settled his glass by the turntable so he could open it properly. Inside was a small white note card with a small message written neatly in what looked like blue ink:

 ** _I'll be there_**

Morse's face lit up and he ran out of the door and up the steps hoping to catch her, but the street was empty. He slowly walked back down the steps knowing he was playing with fire and potentially his career. But he knew he was already in too deep as he walked back inside closing the door.

* * *

Trewlove and Strange boarded the train to London early the next morning. Morse felt sorry for Trewlove and hoped Strange wouldn't annoy her too much. He found a note on his desk from her stating that Cambridge wasn't much help and they could only confirm Dorchester-Baynes' attendance. The potential link with Lucy Leyton wasn't mentioned. However, Morse noticed a footnote that said a friend of her cousin who works there could probably check that out and will get back to her. This didn't help at all. Morse tapped a pencil to his lips wondering if there was another avenue he could go down. He got up to walk to the evidence board.

The more Morse studied it, the more he realised there was an extreme lack of evidence to go on. There were so many missing links, so many missing pieces of the puzzle. He knew there was something not right with the way Katie Kinsella went about herself – she was too open, too calm. He decided to write her name on the board in any case, making a point to mention the fact she changed courses midway through the year. He then wrote down 'Cambridge' nearby in reference to the Master's alma mater. Then something caught Morse's eye, something he didn't notice until now. It was the writing on the wall and the writing behind Dorchester-Baynes where he was found. His eyes flitted from one picture to the other, up and down, left to right. That's it! He couldn't remember where he had seen the writing in the room before, but now he had! He grabbed a pad of paper on Strange's vacant desk and started scribbling at speed, the words making more than sense. He tore the piece of paper from its bond and rushed out, grabbing his coat from the stand.

He walked into the Bodleian and showed his warrant card to the librarian. Being a former student, he knew which section to head for. He ran up the few steps in from of him and walked down the aisles hoping that this time the book he was looking for would still be there, and to his relief it was. He gently eased out the book as it was tightly packed between two others, and decided to be ungraceful by sitting on the floor. As the majority of the books in the Bodleian were centuries old, Morse made sure he was careful in turning the pages. He eventually found what he was looking for and began to read. The more he read, the more and more the pieces began to fit. His eyes looked up into the distance as he realised this was bigger than he could have ever anticipated.

* * *

Fred Thursday stormed into his office absolutely pig sick of everything. He had just about had his fill of this case and just wanted to throw in the towel. He had a call from Joanie the night before, which also pissed him off. He had to force himself to admit that she may never be coming back, that she got a well-paid job as a clerk in Glasgow and was flat sharing with a few girls from the office where she works. But could he really trust her? After all, she said something similar the last time and look what happened. Win, of course, refused to accept it and yet again was a crying mess. Joanie had really hurt her, maybe to the point of no return, and that angered him. But on the flip side there was Sam, his soldier son, and he was the glimmer of hope in all this. He looked at the downturned photo of Joanie and in a fit of rage threw it into the bin next to him. But as much as she hurt him, she was also his daughter. He gently picked it up again and dusted off the frame. He stared at Joanie and his mind went back to when she was a little girl, the apple of his eye; of how adorably cute she was and how she always was singing a tune to herself as she played. It was then he began questioning himself: what went wrong? Was he to blame? Could he have been home more? He took a deep breath to gain his composure as was the attitude that men were not meant to be seen crying in public, if at all, and settled the picture back on his desk this time upright. The sound of the phone gratefully broke into his thoughts, and he sighed irritably as he picked it up.

"Thursday!" he answered, snapping at the unfortunate person at the other end. As he listened his face turned red with anger. "Well, go and find him! I don't know! Try the university!" He slammed down the phone. This was all he needed. He stood up and saw an empty desk from his window. "Where's Morse?!" he asked from the doorway.

"Think he went out," one of his team replied looking up.

"Well do you know where?"

"The university I think, sir." This made Thursday even more incensed. _If he was seeing that bloody girl again…!_ He grabbed his hat and stormed out.

"When you see Morse, you tell him I want a word - and get him to stay put until I get back!"

"Yes, sir." The detective watched as his boss walked out and shook his head slowly in disapproval before getting back to the paperwork in front of him.

* * *

The flicker of a candle flame danced with the draft coming from the gaps in the boarded-up window. On the table once again was an all familiar inkwell and quill, a small piece of parchment paper, a big, hard backed bounded book and a picture – a picture of Katie Kinsella. The quill was gently dunked and the intricate writing began taking shape. Gently, so not to tear the paper, the writer was careful as the words began revealing itself - words that only a few could understand. There was a final gentle swish of the wrist and it was all done. The shadow leaned over to extinguish the flame and snatched the paper up from the table walking away. A loud creaking of a door was heard a moment later followed by a huge bang.

* * *

Morse stared in utter disbelief at Thursday, who was looking by now for sure that he was about to give up. He got back a while ago from the library and waited a further 30 minutes as per his superior's message. By the looks of him as he arrived, Morse knew he spent a good few hours in the pub. He couldn't blame him after all. He was dying to tell him what he found out in the library but used to his better judgement not to right at that point. Thursday wanted a word and this word seemed important. Morse closed the door and heard what he had to say, hence the look on his face as a reaction.

"Allenby? On leave?" he asked. "When did this happen?"

"Convenient, isn't it?" Thursday replied with a hint of sarcasm. "This morning apparently. A 'family emergency'."

"Do you think he could have been threatened?"

"Oh, without a doubt!" Thursday chucked a pen on his desk in finality. Morse took note of how knackered and exhausted his friend was looking. He also figured there was more to him than he was letting on. But he didn't enquire as it wasn't his business, although he kind of guessed who it involved…

"Have you heard from Strange or Trewlove?"

"No, I haven't." Thursday let out a laboured sigh. He would need a long holiday after this. "I heard from Joanie again last night," he suddenly said.

"Did you, sir?" Morse took a seat. "How is she?"

"She seems okay. She said she was settled in Glasgow; has a job as a typing clerk for a shipping company."

"You don't seem happy with that, sir."

"What I feel doesn't matter. It's Win I am worried about. She wants her home, plain and simple." Morse remembered what happened that evening when he visited. He knew Thursday was throwing the bait towards him, but there was no way he was going to bite.

"I'm sorry, sir," Morse said in empathy. He took notice of the wall clock ahead of him. "Sir, do you mind if I go? I hate to ask, but I have plans tonight and I need…"

"Yes, of course. See you tomorrow." Thursday dismissed him still in thought. Morse cleared his throat and left hurriedly. His discovery today could wait – he had an important engagement he had to prepare for.

* * *

The Bridge of Sighs was a high arched skywalk that linked two of the Oxford colleges together. It was mock Venetian in design and towered high over the lane it looked down on. It became one of the recognisable landmarks of the city, and what came with it was a feel of romanticism. It was a perfect place for Morse to meet with Ava. He was dressed in a black suit with an immaculate white shirt – not too formal, but not too casual neither. Morse was nervous and kept time by the university clock, which kept chiming every fifteen minutes. He began to tap his foot anxiously on the wall he was leaning on wondering if he should have suggested collecting her from her room instead. As the clock chimed again, Morse grew nervous. Not normally a superstitious man, he found himself crossing his fingers hoping that she would turn up. It seemed to have worked as when he turned his head, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him. Morse looked on in complete fascination and awe.

Ava was walking down the lane slowly like she was a bride walking down the aisle. She was dressed in a light grey pinafore dress that rested above the knee with a beautiful white long sleeved blouse underneath. Her calves were covered with the daintiest white knee-length boots, and her hands clasped a white bag which she was holding downwards over her middle. Her hair was done neatly, the ends turned up in a flyaway style. She looked just beautiful and Morse broke into a smile.

"Good evening, Miss Lockwood," he said, absolutely gobsmacked at how she looked.

"Hello, Endeavour," she replied. Morse held her arms tenderly and gazed into her eyes. He leaned down to kiss her. Ava touched his cheek with the palm of her right hand as her lips touched his in return. Morse planted another kiss on her forehead and Ava looked up into his eyes. "That was a nice hello," she said to which Morse laughed softly.

"You look beautiful," he told her. Ava eyed him up and down, taking in how he was in front of her. There was no doubt he was a very good looking guy, and this made her stomach begin to flutter as if a Kaleidoscope of butterflies decided to make it their home. However, she decided to play with him.

"You look all right, I guess," she told him. Morse felt awkward suddenly, wondering if he was dressed inappropriately, only to stop as Ava bit her lip cheekily. Morse said nothing and kissed her again. They looked round and saw the domed Sheldonian Theatre in the distance. They held hands as they walked towards it, joining their fellow Oxonians to watch a play that was scheduled to be performed inside.

Later that night, Morse and Ava stood looking at their reflections in the mirror. Moonlight shone through the window into the bedroom casting a beautiful white glow. Morse, his white shirt unbottoned at the collar, wrapped his left arm around her waist. His right hand gently came across her chest to slowly undo the top buttons of her blouse. He then slipped his hand underneath resting his palm against her skin. All the time he didn't take his eyes off her. Ava looked into Morse's eyes through their reflections only to close them as he kissed her neck, his lips gliding gently against her skin. Savouring the sensation of each kiss, Ava let out a soft moan. She clasped his left hand before looking into his blue eyes and gently kissed him. What happened next was more powerful than either of them could ever have imagined.

* * *

The lively chatter of Strange and Trewlove could be heard from the other end of the corridor, and they walked into Thursday's domain laughing and joking around. It had just gone 9.30am and the other detectives met up with them to join in the banter asking how their little trip went. Morse meanwhile was at his desk, his left elbow on the arm rest with a pencil in his right hand looking deep in thought. Trewlove looked at him only to turn back when a detective cracked a joke sending her into fits of laughter. He quickly cleared his throat and the laughter stopped as Thursday walked in. The detectives quickly dispersed and both Strange and Trewlove quickly got their things together ready to report to him. Only Morse still maintained his position at his desk, not moving an inch. Strange nudged Trewlove jokingly, pointing his head in his direction, and winked at her. Trewlove looked directly at Morse and knew instantly something had happened the night before. She tried not to look disappointed as Thursday walked out of his office ready to start the day and to hear their report.

"Good morning, Sergeant Strange, WPC Trewlove. How did it go?"

"Not good, sir," Trewlove replied trying not to catch Strange in case she exploded into laughter again. "We went to the East End just as you told us to…" She stopped again turning her back completely to Strange so she could concentrate. "But all we found was the shop closed with a note saying that the premises would reopen again 'under new management'. We visited the adjoining shops, but all they told us was that the Cruickshanks hadn't lived in the area for at least three years and that no one knew where they went. It was a dead end, sir. I apologise."

"No need to apologise, Trewlove. I had a feeling this was going to be the case." Thursday caught sight of Strange looking like he was going to burst and asked what was going on. He saw Trewlove trying to control her laughter and Thursday couldn't help but smile.

"What did you two get up to?" he asked as if he was speaking to his kids.

"Well… We decided, since we were in London, and seeing as it was a rare occurrence I was out of uniform..."

"We hit a couple of pubs and a gig," Strange finished. "Not an actual one, sir!" He saw the look on Thursday's face. "Just one we came across in one of the pubs in town. It was all above board, sir. We made the last train back."

"I should hope so, too!" He couldn't help but smile again at the look on Trewlove's face and relented. "Okay, what happened?" he asked.

"It was a tribute band of sorts," she replied.

"Shirley… I mean WPC Trewlove was in her element, sir," Strange continued with a grin. "She was getting down on the dance floor bopping away. All the lads were interested and tried to get her attention."

"Like you didn't have your admirers either, Sergeant Strange, sir." Trewlove came back. "What about that buxom lady that kept coming on to you?" She burst out laughing as Strange turned a bright shade of red. Thursday chuckled. Even if it was unorthodox the way this meeting was going, he felt he needed this after everything that had gone on.

"They were good they were," Strange said of the band. "They really sounded like the real thing."

"Yeah!" Trewlove agreed. "I love the whole Merseybeat sound. I really want to go to Liverpool to see a band play up there one day."

"Liverpool?!" Strange scoffed, completely repulsed. "Why do you want to go up there for! It is full of...!"

"Strange!" Thursday interrupted in warning knowing the profanity which was about to be uttered. Strange lapsed into silence, embarrassed.

"Oh, come on, sarge!" Trewlove exclaimed. "It isn't as bad as it seems! What do you think, Morse? Would you recommend going to Liverpool?" She looked across at Morse, who now was going through his notes from yesterday.

"Morse!" Thursday didn't get a reply, so he tried again with a raised voice. "Detective Sergeant Morse!"

"Sir?" Morse looked up. He noticed Trewlove sitting on the edge of Strange's desk, Strange standing by the evidence board and Thursday looking at his direction not far away.

"Did you hear any of what WPC Trewlove said about what she found out in London?"

"Er… Yes, I did, sir. As you said, no surprise." He cleared his throat and stood up. Trewlove looked round her shoulder at Strange who was mouthing a few words to her. She looked back having her thoughts confirmed. Morse walked over to the evidence board to look at it again. He said nothing however except to stare at the two pictures he was looking at the day before. "The writing," he said. "I couldn't remember where I saw it before the first time, but now I know what it is: 'Dominus Illuminatio Mea' – 'The Lord is my Light'. It is the motto of the university." He walked up to the photo of Dorchester-Baynes' crime scene. "You see that writing on the window? It looks like something else, but it is actually 'De Bene Esse' – 'as well done'."

"Meaning expired as in no longer available?" Thursday got it more or less straight away. Morse looked at him and nodded.

"The shroud I spotted in the room where we first saw the Master. It wasn't one literally rather than a picture of one." He paused. "Centuries ago, a shroud called The Bayeux Tapestry was made depicting the Norman invasion of England..."

"The Battle of Hastings?" Trewlove asked. Morse looked at her and nodded.

"But what has this have to do with the murders?" Thursday asked. Morse looked at him.

"It is to do with oath and honour," he explained. "The Tapestry tells of an oath that Harold, Earl of Wessex made in 1042 after being rescued by William of Normandy declaring support of a French king on the English throne. When Edward the Confessor died, the question was whether the oath taken would be kept or would there be revenge." He saw the clueless and puzzled looks on his colleagues' faces. "Dorchester-Baynes was seen as the king… Someone wanted him gone, to take over or at least wreak revenge."

"That still doesn't explain the missing picture on the wall we found, Lucy Leyton's missing project or the two bodies!" Thursday was still confused.

"It's all about loyalty to him," Morse tried again to explain. "He was a religious man. He was responsible for both the theology and philosophy faculties. Religion was part of it. That was also his degree at Cambridge. He wanted his students to take an oath of loyalty, hence why he set such a high standard of curriculum. The motto of the university was something he believed strongly in."

"Do you think these two bodies, whoever they were, were the oath breakers?" Trewlove asked getting the gist of what Morse had just said. They were suddenly interrupted by shuffling and protests from elsewhere. An officer ran in and told Thursday he was needed downstairs. As he followed him out, he called for Morse as back up.

"Trewlove!" Morse called out from the doorway. She looked at him. "I agree with Strange," he told her. "I wouldn't go to Liverpool either." He took note of Thursday calling him and ran off down the corridor. Trewlove turned her head and saw the smug look on Strange's face. He quickly ran for cover laughing as she scrunched up a piece of paper into a ball, chucking it at him.

* * *

Thursday and Morse reached the front desk as the protests grew louder. About three officers were trying to restrain the person they had taken in. It was looking like turning into a huge mêlée. The two detectives barged through to see what was going on. Morse recognised who the person was and straight away joined in the protests.

"Morse!" Ava's hands were painfully pulled behind her back by one officer forcing her to hunch forwards like a slave. Thursday took one look at her, then at Morse and then at the arresting officers.

"Care to explain?" he asked them. Ava screamed in pain as the officer reinforced his grip and Morse lunged forward.

"Let go of her!" he yelled. He didn't like seeing anyone who meant so much to him to be in so much pain. It brought back nightmares of the past.

"Morse, they burst in at nine o'clock this morning!" Ava tried to say. "I was on my way out. No reason, nothing, they just arrested me." She screamed again in pain as the officer's grip tightened and this time Morse tried to pull her away from the officer's hands. But it just made things ten times worse. He screamed at the officer to let go. Thursday started arguing with the arresting officers, the desk sergeant, and everything blew up around them. In the midst of it all, Chief Superintendent Bright made an appearance. He viewed everything with disdain, and for the first time since the War, picked up the whistle from his jacket and blew.

The long and piercing sound silenced everyone immediately. Bright walked to the front desk. He saw his two senior detectives, his uniformed officers and Ava, the pain too much now for her to bear. He kindly cleared the hair from her face. Ava looked up, pleading.

"Please…" she whispered. "What have I done?" Morse looked away, the tears stinging his eyes. Bright gave his uniformed officers a very disapproving look.

"Since when have we resorted to barbaric methods?" he asked them. "To this poor child no less?"

"We were only following orders," the officer replied. He then kicked Ava on the heel forcing her to kneel to the floor, totally humiliating her. Morse glared at him, absolutely appalled.

"Oh, really?" Bright replied. He saw what happened. "So, if I kick you on the heel and pull your arms round your back so hard it cuts your blood supply, would that be a sufficient method, hmm? Would that be classed as 'normal restraint'?" He kept his eyes on the officer before screaming at him. "RELAX YOUR GRIP ON THE GIRL AND APOLOGISE FOR KICKING HER!" The officer reluctantly did as was told. Ava sniffed back her tears and slowly stood up. Bright briefly checked up on her. The officer then muttered something under his breath and Morse went for him. Thursday pulled him back. Bright couldn't believe what he had heard. He ordered the officer upstairs to his office and the others to leave. He then ordered two others who were nearby to come forward. "Take Miss Lockwood here to the interview room," he told them, "and for God's sake be gentle with her!"

Thursday let go of Morse and told him in his ear to calm down. Ava continued to protest as she was led away. She called for Morse as she was ushered inside a room.

"RACISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED ANYWHERE WITHIN OR OUTSIDE MY STATION!" Bright shouted to everyone. "ANYONE CAUGHT OR REPORTED SAYING ANYTHING REMOTELY BIGOTED WILL RESULT IN AN AUTOMATIC SUSPENSION! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!" He got nods of the head in return. "For goodness sake this is Oxford, not London. No offence, Fred." Thursday waved off the remark. Bright walked over to them, mainly Morse, and looked at him. "Get yourself cleaned up and calmed down and next time do not carry yourself again in such an aggressive fashion! It is disgraceful for an intelligent man like you!" He looked at Thursday. "Five minutes," he told him. "This meeting will not take long." He walked off towards his office. Morse cleared the remaining tears away from his face and straightened himself up. He saw the look on Thursday's face and stormed off outside for some air. Thursday rolled his eyes wondering what else could add to his stress and made his way to the interview room.

* * *

Ava looked up as Thursday walked in. The room was grey, cold and lifeless. She was seated by a table in the centre, her head down with her hands still cuffed behind her back. Instantly, Thursday felt sorry for her. He ordered one of the officers to release her and she breathed a huge sigh of relief as she felt her wrists come back to life. She carefully brought her arms forward grimacing slightly and began massaging her wrists. Thursday told the officers they could go and she looked up as they left. Her eyes turned to Thursday, and she felt a little bit more comfortable.

"What have I done, Mr Thursday?" she asked in a low voice. Thursday walked over and sat down opposite her.

"I have no idea, Miss Lockwood," he replied still at a loss. He poured a glass of water from a jug in the middle and gave it to her. "I can only apologise for the treatment you received. This is not what normally happens in this country."

Ava nodded and thanked him for the drink. "To be honest, I am not surprised. This is only a sign of things to come." She drank the contents down and Thursday poured her another. "This kind of thing only comes from when the public feel threatened by people or situations different to them." She took a sip. "Did you serve in the War?"

"Yes," he replied. Ava nodded slowly.

"I have lived here in England for a long time, Mr Thursday. English is my mother tongue. I am half English even, so why do some people have to treat me like the plague?"

"I honestly do not know, Miss Lockwood." Thursday's tone was apologetic, as if he was apologising on behalf of his fellow countrymen's actions. The door opened and Bright came in, Morse following on behind. He tried not to make too much eye contact with Ava, but all he wanted to do was to hold her. He closed his eyes painfully as she looked away, knowing he hurt her. He stayed a considerable distance away against the wall as Bright pulled a nearby chair over to sit beside Thursday.

"I would like to apologise for the way you were treated, Miss Lockwood," he began. "Rest assured the officer is question has been suspended with a view to termination."

"Thank you," Ava replied. "But don't end his career. That won't solve anything. He needs to stay here, to learn." She took another sip of her water. "So, are you going to tell me what is going on?"

"Miss Lockwood, I have brought you here because, quite frankly, I am confused."

"Confused about what?" Ava asked.

"As you know, these two officers here have been investigating a spate of murders that have been taken place on campus recently. One was Richard Dorchester-Baynes."

"What has that got to do with me?"

"Miss Lockwood, how well did you know Lucy Leyton?"

"Lucy? Not all that well," she replied. "By that I mean personally. She was though very popular with the students." She looked at Thursday then at Morse, who was treating this with his head turned away to his right. "Chief Superintendent…?"

"Bright."

"Chief Superintendent Bright. Am I under suspicion?" Morse instantly turned his head to look at them.

"Sir, if I could explain…"

"Not now." Bright raised his hand and Morse had no choice but to keep quiet. "But, Miss Lockwood, I find it highly suspicious that you have been assisting our detective sergeant here with his enquiries..."

"He came to me looking for help," Ava explained. "He asked me questions, so I answered them."

"Does that include going to the theatre with him and spending the night?" Ava's eyes widened. Thursday looked at Morse half surprised, and got no reaction from him in return.

"Have you been spying on me?" Ava asked incredulously. To her surprise, Bright looked at her kindly.

"Miss Lockwood, before he died, Richard asked me to see him. I couldn't due to prior commitments, but we did manage. He told me all about Lucy, how he was concerned about her, that he hadn't seen her for three weeks, and then a body was found on site. You see, the two of us were old Army friends. We served in the same regiment together. Ava, this came into my possession." He placed a folder on the table. Thursday beckoned Morse to come over. Ava took one look at it and her whole demeanour changed. She became nervous very quickly. "Now, my child," Bright said, "and I don't mean it in a patronising way. Can you tell me more?"

"Where did you get this?" she asked. She looked at Morse who was observing this with confusion. Her eyes turned to Thursday and eventually nodded. "Yes…" she replied heavily. "Yes, I can. I'm Lucy Leyton." Morse couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why did she lie? Ava looked at him and bowed her head. She had been caught out and needed to explain...

* * *

"When I came to this country from Singapore, I was not long three years old. The Japanese had not long taken the colony from the British. They had begun killing all the ethnic Chinese there. Father feared for his life, and we all went into hiding. After so much, my parents decided to move back to England to get away before Father got caught and Mother and I shoved into a Prisoner of War camp with the other Western women. We left in the middle of the night with only a fistful of dollars to our name. We managed to smuggle ourselves on to a boat to Allied territory and from there made our way to England safely. We ended up in London, but as things were still volatile there we headed to Cambridge. Growing up there was nothing like I remembered home to be – it was fresh, quiet and friendly. People welcomed us in, always asking if we were okay. It was the one place I felt truly safe." She wiped a rogue tear away from her face with her sleeve. Thursday poured her another glass of water.

"Father eventually enrolled me at a school in the city," she continued. "I was about five or six. He heard about this place that excelled in educational standards. Being from the Far East, that was what mattered. It was there I first met Richard. I remembered how tall he was… Well… Look at me! Even at that age, everyone was tall!" Thursday chuckled quietly. Morse however listened attentively. "He introduced himself, said he would change my life and that he was glad I was to be attending the school. Even back then, he loved himself." She looked apologetically at Bright, but he dismissed it with a smile.

"I thrived there over the years. I was miles ahead of the other students and worked harder than anyone else. I took my A-Level exams at 14 and passed. That was then Richard suggested to my parents I try for the theology entrance exam at Cambridge. I decided to take my mother's maiden name of Lockwood, just so to up my chances. Being a foreign student back then was rare, or I thought it be more of a hindrance if I stuck to my actual surname. Father didn't mind. He knew and understood.

"I loved theology. I loved the way it was taught and the lectures were fascinating. I got it near enough straight away but decided to slow my pace so not to make my fellow students feel awkward or inferior. But, again, Richard saw I was way ahead and persuaded the faculty to put me forward for the final exams. I was only in my second year, but I passed and graduated. Richard was so proud of me. He told me that in all the years he had been doing this, I was the one who achieved anything, that I 'upped his reputation' as it were. I was his 'child prodigy'. By then, he had moved to Oxford where he changed that faculty. He had been Master for about a year before he asked me to help him there."

Ava paused to take a drink. Morse was once again fascinated and was now sitting on a chair at the side of the table.

"I had gained my Masters and obtained my doctorate all before I was 18. But not long after I arrived in Oxford, I noticed Richard had changed. He was different. He had much more of a nasty disposition than I remembered. All that friendliness completely vanished. He had turned into a right bastard, excuse my language."

"That is okay, Miss Lockwood," Bright said to her kindly. "Carry on."

"He insisted I accompany him to the lectures, to see what a glorious change he made. But all I saw were miserable students. They were not enjoying it like I did. I was disappointed. This wasn't theology. It was more like an Army camp." Again, Ava looked apologetically at Bright and again it was overlooked with a smile.

"I decided to take matters in my own hands, to make the subject interesting. That was when I created Lucy. No one knew who I was or my name. Only Peter Allenby did after I confided in him. I trusted him and he kept his word. I started wearing a short dark-haired wig and dark clothing. Sad but true. I gave my first written piece to the students before one lecture started. The response was phenomenal! I couldn't have asked for more. They started turning up in that room. They put their trust in me, confided in me. In turn, I tutored them, mentored them; gave them the tools they needed just to get them through the year. A lot of them failed. It was painful to see them go as I felt like I had let them down. They told me after that I hadn't, but I still felt bad. That was then I began to write what you see in front of you. It wasn't a project, but rather a dossier. I had enough of the way Richard was running the faculty and I wanted it stopped, for him to stop. I was in my room thinking of completing it when that poor girl fell to her death. I realised then that I stupidly left it in that room. That was when I ran over and that was why I was adamant to get up there." She glanced at Morse. "I needed to get it because if it fell into the wrong hands I didn't want to contemplate what would have happened. Richard had a short fuse. Even though I was only young back then, I had seen enough suffering back in Singapore. You don't forget things like that. After that girl died, I decided to take a casual teaching post lecturing in English under my real name. I knew you would be investigating and I wanted to help."

Ava sighed heavily and opened the folder the dossier was in. "I am so sorry I lied to both of you, Mr Thursday... Morse. I honestly didn't like doing it. But I had to protect my back. If word got out that I was Lucy Leyton, then I don't think I would be sitting with you now. But all the information I have given, every detail is the truth. I know… I have seen it." She looked at Morse and his eyes locked into hers. He felt a sense of admiration, the pain of her early years, the courage she showed, and the loyalty she felt towards the students and the faculty. Ava took a deep breath and forced herself to break away. "There," she said. "That's it. That's who I am."

Bright looked at Thursday and Morse and stood up. "Thank you, Miss Lockwood, you are free to go. Morse will take you home. I want you straight back, Morse, yes?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. Bright asked Thursday for a word and they both left. As the door closed, Ava sighed again and looked at Morse.

"Can you forgive me?" she asked.

"Of course," Morse replied still taking in what he heard. He realised that she had been giving him subtle hints all along: the way she used certain words and tenses, the answers she gave to his questions, her room on campus. He should have known.

Ava slid the now closed dossier towards him. "Keep it," she said. "Look after it. Read it tonight if you like. Can we go?" Morse looked at Ava and picked up the folder. He walked over to the door to open it, Ava walking out first. They made their way down the corridor towards the exit when an officer called Morse back.

"Sir," he said. "We found this." Morse looked at a quizzical Ava and they retraced their steps, Thursday and Bright joining them. Morse looked at the evidence bag he was given. It was a message in Latin.

"Morse?" Bright wanted a translation.

"'Datum Perficiemus Munus'," he read.

"What does that mean?" Ava asked. "Morse, I haven't seen this before…"

"Sir?" Another officer walked in with another bag. "We also found this. It's a fountain pen and an inkwell."

"Yes, that's mine," Ava confirmed before it clicked. "I didn't write this! Tell them, Morse!"

Bright waved a female constable over. "Take Miss Lockwood to the holding cells, please."

"What!" Morse raised his voice. "You can't hold her for this!"

"Morse?" Ava could not believe this was happening again, but Morse didn't answer.

"Just go with the policewoman, please, Miss Lockwood." Bright could not help but feel disappointed as she was led away. He gestured the two detectives towards his office. Morse turned to look at Thursday and realised he was in on this all along.

"How could you do this, sir? She's innocent!" But Thursday ignored him and walked ahead. Morse, by now wanting to quit over this, forced himself to follow. They walked inside the light filled office and Bright closed the door.

"Sir," Morse protested. "This isn't fair or right."

"It doesn't matter what you think, Morse!" Bright took his seat. "What did that message say?"

"Would it make a difference if I told you?" He was now becoming petulant.

"Morse!" Thursday warned. "Answer him."

"No." Morse shook his head. "I won't. Not until you release her. Do you realise that whoever planted this _wanted_ her to get caught?"

"Detective Sergeant Morse!" Bright stood up and faced him head on. "Don't you dare ignore a direct order! When I ask for a translation, I expect one. Now, what did that message say?"

"Sorry, sir." Morse made his way to the door. "But I refuse." He placed his hand on the door handle.

"You are getting too involved with her, Morse!"

"So, what! Yes, we went out together and yes, she spent the night. Last time I looked that was perfectly okay as she isn't a suspect." He walked over directly to Bright. "With all due respect, sir, from what she told us in there, you had her followed. Now, how would it look if I went to the Chief Constable to let him know of the fact, plus you had three officers falsely arrest her? Not to mention she suffered what could be classed as 'police brutality', plus being the subject of racial abuse! Not the best advertisement for the police force, is it?"

"Are you threatening me, Morse!" Bright challenged, but Morse shook his head.

"No, sir," he replied calmly, but inside he was seething angry. "I am just telling you how it is. Now, are you going to keep an innocent girl in, knowing that the paper and writing instruments found were purely circumstantial, or for the fact that she supposedly wrote a note in a language she doesn't understand?" Morse didn't wait too long for an answer that he knew wouldn't come. He paused to look at Thursday, giving him a look of disappointment, before storming out to the direction of the custody cells. Bright cleared his throat, knowing he was just shown up.

"Get out!" he ordered as Thursday left, slamming the door.

* * *

Ava was sitting on the cold floor, her back to the wall with her knees hunched up to her chest. The cell she was in was just as cold and uninviting. She wondered what was happening to her, that she continued to be treated like scum. This wasn't the England she grew to know, the England her mother was from and where her parents first met. She also wondered why Morse was acting the way he was: distant. Like the previous night meant nothing. She wiped the tears away in frustration before looking up. Morse was standing on the other side, the custody sergeant unlocking and opening the door before leaving. Ava stood up and walked out of the cells, looking at Morse. They kept a short distance away from each other, as if a divide had suddenly appeared to have split them. Morse didn't say anything to Ava and this appeared to upset her more, as if he was trying to push her away.

"Please, can we leave?" she said to him. Morse gestured the empty corridor and Ava walked ahead, Morse following on behind. They passed Thursday on the way. Nothing was said between them. Only Ava gave him a look that reminded him so much of Joanie – the look of accusation. He watched as they both disappeared outside and walked slowly back to his office, feeling the beginnings of remorse for his actions.

* * *

The waters of the River Cherwell gently splashed over the banks caused by the ripples of the water. Morse and Ava were walking nearby both getting some much deserved air. Not a word was said, the gap between them obvious. Ava walked slightly ahead, stopping to look at the horizon. Morse stood a distance away and surveyed the opposite bank. They both wondered what each other was thinking.

"What happened this morning?" she suddenly asked. "I mean… What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing at all," Morse replied.

"What did that message say, Endeavour?" He didn't answer. Instead, he concentrated his attentions on the emptiness opposite. Ava nodded slowly in acceptance. She laced a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "'I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in'."

"Virginia Woolf." Morse recognised the quote instantly. Ava smiled a little.

"I'm glad it is all finally out in the open. I hated being who I wasn't." She began walking again only to stop. "Are you embarrassed, Endeavour?" she asked him.

"Embarrassed of what?" Morse asked. "This whole thing? My Chief Inspector? The whole police force…?"

"I mean me." Ava sighed heavily. Morse's eyebrows narrowed finding the answer peculiar.

"You had no choice," he replied. "You had a responsibility to the students, to the faculty..."

"No, Endeavour!" Ava looked at him. Morse took note of the tone of her voice and looked at her. The expression said it all.

"No!" he answered, hurt that she could presume such a thing. No matter what, he loved her – for whom she was, who she is. Race did not come into it. Ava shrugged her shoulders. Morse suddenly ran over and stood in front of her. He placed his hands tenderly on her arms, just like on their first date. "Ava!" he nearly pleaded, hoping she would realise how much she meant to his very being. Morse still could not believe what he was hearing. He was sick of all this. But to his frustration and disappointment, Ava shook her head slowly and shrugged him off. She walked away again, slowly and sadly, only to stop, her whole body shaking with cold. Morse ran after her and took off his coat. He wrapped it tightly around her and brought her close to him. Ava closed her eyes as she heard Morse's heartbeat, the sound providing comfort and peace. She looked up and saw Morse was looking down at her, hurt in his eyes. She also saw how much affection there was in them, and felt foolish for upsetting him.

"I want to show you something, Endeavour." She took his hand and led him away from the bank and up a hill until they reached a field.

They passed a disused and rather dilapidated building and stopped not far in front of it. Morse took it all in: there were loose planks of wood hanging off the windows and huge gaps in the porch floor. The two doors to the building were broken with the windows smashed or cracked. It was a huge mess of a place.

"I used to come here when I first came to Oxford," Ava explained. "It was a beautiful place back then. The wood was varnished and there were baskets of flowers hanging by the front door. I took the students here once a month for the weekend. We would have fun having picnics in the summer or huddling round a campfire in the autumn. We also played board games indoors in the winter and spring. I made sure they had some downtime to take their minds off things."

"What happened to it?" Morse asked.

"Lack of care," Ava replied. "It became neglected. The more Richard craved power, the more difficult the academic year became. One by one, the students couldn't make it; and I didn't want to come here on my own." A gust of wind blew and Ava wrapped Morse's coat around herself tightly. She suddenly felt his arms envelope around her, holding her close for extra warmth. She held his arms and they laced their fingers together.

"What happened to your parents, Ava? Are they still alive?" He felt her tense up slightly.

"Mother died before she could see me obtain my doctorate. Father left not long after. I think he went back to Singapore. I honestly don't know. I think he knew I was secure financially and decided to leave me be." Morse held her tightly, feeling the sadness in her body. He knew how she felt, more than she realised.

"Was it you that delivered those files back to me?" He looked down as Ava leaned her head back to look up at him.

"I'm cold," she said. Morse protectively put his left arm around her shoulders and together they walked away leaving the house as they found it - torn and broken, not much unlike themselves.

* * *

A few days passed. Morse stubbornly refused to come back to work until both he and Ava received an apology. No matter how Thursday tried to persuade him, even coming over to see him, Morse stood his ground. Ava meanwhile stayed with Morse. She busied herself marking her students' assignments whilst he listened to music. She also took it upon herself to coach him – rather hilariously – to hold a bowl, how to use chopsticks, and tried to develop his reluctant palate for jasmine tea. He took her out to dinner, and was persuaded to go to the cinema once or twice. He just loved being around her, in her company, and his affection and adoration grew with each passing day.

* * *

The doorbell rang one evening and went unanswered. It rang again and the letterbox rattled. Once that also went unanswered, there was a knock on the door. Morse, in just his tracksuit bottoms, staggered over to answer. He was met by someone he'd never thought he would see again. He quickly grabbed a new jacket he had recently bought, hurriedly putting it on.

"Miss Thursday!" he said in surprise. He took note of a suitcase that was on the ground by her feet.

"Hello, Morse," she said noticing that she had got him out of bed. "I haven't woken you up, have I?"

"No! No, you haven't." But his dishevelled features told her otherwise. "How are you?" he asked.

"Fine… Yeah, fine." She tried to take a look over his shoulder and wondered why he hadn't asked her in yet. "I'm here on a visit," she said to him. "I took some leave."

"That's good," Morse replied. "I am on leave myself."

"Really?" Joanie knew not to believe him. "What have you done? Have you annoyed my Dad again?"

"No! Well…" He was a bit shifty but Joanie smiled.

"Nice jacket," she remarked in amusement. "I never expected you to be one with the latest trends." Morse looked down at what he was wearing.

"Thank you, Miss Thursday," he replied. He found himself staring at her, remembering their shared history.

"Is everything all right?" Ava came into view tying her beautiful printed silk dressing gown around her waist. Morse glanced at her and brought her to him, his arm around her. Joanie raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Ava Lockwood, this is Miss Thursday. Miss Thursday, this is Ava."

"Pleased to meet you," Ava said, politely putting out her hand.

"Ditto," Joanie replied shaking it. "Please, call me Joan."

"Thursday?" Ava asked. "Any relation to…?"

"I'm his daughter," Joanie replied. She looked at them. "How long have you two been together?"

"A little while," Morse replied looking at Ava. His eyes glazed over as her dark pupils met his blue.

"I see." Joanie knew when to stop. She saw how much in love Morse was with Ava by the way he was looking at her, and put on a brave face. "Congratulations, Morse!" He looked at her. "I knew one day you would be snapped up!"

"Thank you, Miss Thursday." Ava looked up at Morse again, beaming. Morse leaned down to kiss her playfully on the nose. Joanie couldn't look any longer and picked up her suitcase.

"I'd better be going," she said. "Look after yourselves."

"Oh, do you want to come in?" Ava offered kindly. "You look like you have travelled a long way. I can make you a cup of tea or something?"

"No thanks, Ava. I'm good. Dad lives not far from here anyway." She made her move to leave. "See you, Morse."

"Goodbye, Miss Thursday." Morse watched as Joanie disappeared up the steps. He looked at Ava and gave her a kiss as he closed the door. He locked up and turned only to see she was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. He turned the light off in the landing and followed her in. "What's the matter?" he asked as he sat beside her.

"Nothing," she replied. There was a sense of awkwardness between them. Morse got up and stood by the doorway, his back to her. "Endeavour?"

"Yes, Ava?"

"Joan Thursday... Did you have feelings for her once?" Morse didn't answer. Ava swallowed her hurt. "It doesn't matter you know," she said eventually. "Everyone has past loves. It's part of life." Morse turned to look at her and walked over. They faced one another, and he stroked her cheek.

"She was once part of my life. I hoped she would be," he explained softly. "But it just didn't happen. I wanted it to, but she didn't. _You_ are my future now, Miss Ava Lockwood…"

"I love you, Endeavour!" Ava gasped. She couldn't believe how it came out, the urgency.

But Morse's heart leapt upon hearing those words.

He laughed softly as he saw the look on Ava's face. He gazed into her eyes and couldn't believe how lucky he was to have such an amazing woman in his life. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly happy.

* * *

Morse collected Ava from choir rehearsal a couple of days later. The recital was not long away that she and the choir had to put in double time to be pitch perfect. He decided to head to work after he heard via a message from Trewlove that the forensic tests on the items in the Master's room, plus the parchment paper message had arrived which should force Bright to issue an apology to both of them. Morse thought it be only fair that Ava accompanied him as the apology was meant more for her than for him. They walked inside the station and headed to Bright's office where hopefully the envelope would be waiting for them. They wouldn't have long to wait.

Fred Thursday knew that both Morse and Ava were in the building and knew they would be arriving soon to let him know what the verdict was. He had the envelope with the Master's forensics results on his table. Thursday was glad to have Morse back. Without him, they wouldn't be able to solve this case. Word passed about Lucy Leyton's true identity and no surprises, both Strange and Trewlove were struck dumb. They listened as Thursday explained the reasoning behind it and they understood why. But he also told them what happened after and why Morse hadn't been back for a while.

He looked up as he heard two familiar voices in the distance and stood up as both Morse and Ava walked in, he with an envelope under his arm. Ava greeted him out of civility and sat down at the other side of the desk. Morse handed Thursday the envelope and stood behind Ava's chair.

"Did you get your apology?" Thursday asked as he read the result.

"Yes, we did," Morse replied.

"I would like to apologise myself for what happened. Bright thought he was doing the right thing. He told me things were already in motion before I could object. I had no choice but to go along." Ava turned her head to look at Morse who placed his hand on her shoulder protectively. However, nothing was said in return. Thursday then asked politely if he could have a private word with Morse and she left.

"Forensics have come back on the letter I found in the Master's room."

"And?" Morse noticed the look on Thursday's face as he took the report out of the envelope. He read it quietly to himself before taking out the photograph. He held it up to the light and studied it for a while, seeing if he could pick out anything.

"Joan told me she saw you when she was over," Thursday said. "She commented how happy you were with Ava." Morse put the contents back in the envelope but said nothing. He knew from experience Thursday wasn't finished. "She's gone back to Glasgow now. I think Win has piece of mind now finally."

"She looked well, sir," Morse replied looking at him. "I'm glad she is happy where she is." But Morse knew by the look he received that it was the complete opposite. The sound of Ava's laughter interrupted them, and Morse walked out to see what was going on. She was sharing a joke with Trewlove and Strange and it didn't take long for Morse to know as to why.

Ava and Trewlove jokingly booed Strange as once again he tried to dissuade them from going to Liverpool. It wasn't going well for him as he was officially outnumbered.

"Ava wants to go Liverpool, Morse," Trewlove said to him.

"Really?" Morse said with a bemused look on his face.

"Why not?" Ava asked. "I've always wanted to go there. I am a huge Beatles fan."

"Are you sure you wouldn't want to go anywhere else?"

"No," Ava replied with a smile.

"Well if Morse still kicks up a fuss, then we can go together," Trewlove suggested. "A girls' weekend!"

"That sounds like a great idea. We can buy Jim here a souvenir."

"Ah, get away, you two!" Strange said to giggles. Morse tutted in annoyance and dumped the envelope on his desk. Ava picked up her bag. As they said their goodbyes and were about to leave, Ava suddenly caught sight of the evidence board. She slowly walked towards it and looked at all the bits and pieces dotted around.

"Is this what you've been having trouble with?" she asked. Morse nodded. Ava noticed the pictures pinned up with Morse's and Thursday's scribbles underneath. Just like Morse, she tilted her head to the side. Thursday stood in his office doorway watching her. He motioned Strange and Trewlove to move away so he could obtain a good view.

"Morse?" Ava called. He walked over.

"Ava?"

"Are these the dead girls?"

"Yes. We haven't been able to identify them," he said. He watched as she moved closer and waved discreetly to Thursday from behind his back to come closer. Ava was now up close to the photos and she again tilted her head to the side. Strange and Trewlove looked at each other as Thursday parked himself at the desk behind Morse.

"I know one of them," Ava suddenly said. She turned to point at the second body. "This is Deirdre Anderson. She's an ex-student. I remember her because Richard was quite forceful with her. Not in that way, but he put a lot of pressure on her to do well. She came to me crying one day because she was scared. She handed her assignment in late and wanted help. Oh, my gosh!" She gasped as it sunk in. "I wonder why she was there? I can get her family details. I can give it to Morse for you."

"Thank you, Ava," Thursday said gratefully. "What about the first one?" Ava turned again to take a look, only to shake her head.

"No, Mr Thursday. Sorry, but I don't know who she is. I don't recall seeing her on campus." But then something caught her eye. She noticed the picture of the ring with Morse's scribble underneath.

"It looks like a signet ring," Morse explained. "But not for a man."

"You mean like this?" Ava reached into her bag. "This is a campus ring," she explained handing it to Morse. "Richard gives everyone one when they first start. It was like a symbol of sorts. If you look by the hallmark, it will have my name and year I joined." Thursday handed Morse the magnifying glass. Sure enough, he saw Ava's name and admission year. "So why was she found with one?" Ava asked. "That is very odd. These are only exclusive to students and senior faculty members."

"Ava, do you mind if we keep this for now?" Thursday asked. "It could be vital for us."

"Go ahead. Melt it afterwards. I really don't want it back." Thursday smiled in gratitude.

"You have been a great help, Ava."

"You're very welcome. If you need help, just ask. I'm sure if I cannot answer, I can definitely find out for you." Ava smiled and looked at Morse.

"Do you know about The Bayeux Tapestry?"

"The Battle of Hastings shroud? I studied it briefly during my degree. Yes why, what about it?"

"We think the deaths could be to do with oath breakers."

"Possibly, Mr Thursday. Oath breakers or vengeance. Either or." She paused. "It ends with the death of King Harold at the hands of an oath breaker, but it doesn't show specifics. He is depicted with an arrow through the eye, but no one knows whether or not that is accurate. It has baffled historians for centuries." She smiled at him. "I know you are thinking why a theology student would study that? Well, it is kind of religion based. Theology and history are linked. In fact, most things are based around religion. You just have to find it." It still didn't make sense to Thursday, but he thanked Ava all the same. She and Morse left not long after, Trewlove wishing her luck with her recital.

* * *

Things seemed to move forward – more than it had for a long time. Morse handed Thursday the details of the second victim, and he had the morbid task of calling her parents. They arrived the following day to unfortunately confirm the identity of their child. He updated the evidence board later, taking down her picture and updating the identity of Lucy Leyton. Morse meanwhile headed to the city centre and disappeared inside only to come out a little while later. He walked a short distance to his car and got in, not realising someone was watching him from a distance away.

* * *

Ava looked at her reflection in the mirror in Morse's bedroom. She was dressed rather elegantly, in a long sleeved black A-line dress, a gold chain with a pendant at her throat. Morse had surprised her with it the evening before as a good luck present and she couldn't wait to show it off. She picked up her pretty black low heeled shoes from the floor by the foot of the bed and placed them on her delicate flesh coloured tights covered feet, one hand on the bed frame. She nearly lost her balance and Morse rushed over to hold her upright. He was completely dressed for the occasion in a black suit, crisp white shirt and black tie done neatly at the collar. He knew Ava was nervous. It was the evening of her choir's recital, but also the choirmaster had shoved her in to do a solo at short notice. Morse advised her to take deep breaths and to count slowly in her head. He smiled when he was satisfied she was better. He stroked Ava's cheek and leaned over to kiss her gently.

"You will be fine," he said to her.

"I hope so. I have never performed a solo before. You will be there?"

"Ava, of course." Morse chuckled as he saw the relief come over Ava's features. She knew this already, but she wanted to make sure. Morse walked over to the living room to collect his jacket which was hung neatly on the back of a chair. Ava grabbed her shoulder bag from the bed frame and hurried out the front door, Morse following on behind.

* * *

The concert hall was a sell-out. It was a majestic affair with all patrons invited from all parts of the university, students included. More seemed to cram in, and the organisers wondered if they will fit and importantly have somewhere to sit. Morse pulled up not far away, and he and Ava both got out. They got lost in the crowd as they walked inside, Ava making her way to the back room for a quick warm up with the choir and Morse making his own way to his seat in the second front row. He noticed Peter Allenby in the row opposite and he waved his hello upon seeing him. Morse acknowledged him politely and began to read the programme he picked up on the way in.

As time passed, it had become obvious there was a delay to proceedings. Morse looked at the clock and saw that it had been a good half-an-hour, but tried not to get too concerned. However, as a further ten minutes passed without a word from anyone, he decided to find out what was going on. He saw that Allenby had also disappeared from his seat and that aroused his suspicions even more.

Morse walked through a door at the back of the hall and down a corridor. He passed various people before finding Allenby looking completely flustered. He saw Morse and walked towards him.

"Am I glad to see you, Morse!" he exclaimed with panic in his voice.

"Doctor Allenby, is everything all right? Is there something wrong with the choir?"

"Morse, she's gone."

"Gone? Who's gone?" Now it was Morse's turn to panic.

"Ava!" Allenby replied confirming Morse's worst fears. "She hasn't shown for her warm up exercises."

"When was this?"

"About an hour ago. Not long after you arrived. Morse, you have got to find her!" Morse reassured Allenby he would before running back out into the hall towards the exit. He ran down the steps and down the short distance to his car, getting in and speeding directly to the station.

* * *

Thursday stood up immediately as Morse burst in, heading straight to his desk to bring out the folders before rushing over to one by the evidence board. He quickly opened each folder on the desk, spreading out the photos and documents on top and chucking each empty folder on the floor. He took off his suit jacket and slung that on the nearest empty chair before loosening his tie and undoing his top shirt button. Thursday by now knew something was up by the actions of his sergeant, and walked over.

"Everything all right, Morse?" he asked.

"No…" Morse was in a blind panic trying to put two and two together. "She's gone, sir. Ava. She didn't show up for her warm up before the recital." Thursday watched as Morse began to tear his hair out. Like him, he hoped they were not going to find her body somewhere. He picked up the phone to ask for Trewlove before placing a hand on Morse's shoulder.

"We will find her," he said seriously but also with meaning. Morse looked up at Thursday and nodded. "Now… take it a step at a time. Go through the evidence."

"Ava was Lucy Leyton," Morse began, his voice breaking. "Ava wrote that dossier on the Master's running of the faculty. She didn't kill him, but she was worried what would happen if he came across it." Trewlove walked in and straight away saw the state of her colleague and friend. She took off her coat and hurried over.

"Ava has gone missing," Thursday informed her. "She didn't show up to her final recital practice." Trewlove looked at Morse, sensing his anguish, and straight away picked up a few documents to look through them.

"The Latin on that paper that was found," Morse said. "'We shall accomplish the mission assigned'."

"But Ava wasn't involved," Trewlove said.

"No, but the killer wanted us to think she was in on it. She hated the Master as much as everyone else." He looked up at the board. "Ava mentored the theology students on the sly, she had to take on a guise, a persona, a pseudonym so she wouldn't be identified and ousted." He picked up the picture of the missing accolade on the Master's wall and walked over with it. "Faculty achievements. Remember that was what was missing, sir? One certificate... Ava was his main achievement."

"Jealousy?" Thursday suggested. "Ava was long his favourite, ever since their Cambridge days."

"Oh, that reminds me." Trewlove spoke. "My cousin called. His friend confirmed that Ava did attend Cambridge, but she got into a spot of trouble with someone off campus. The Master though sorted it out."

Morse looked at her. "Did he say who?"

"No, I'm sorry. His friend could only find out so much."

Morse began to think. He analysed all the evidence in his head one by one. Thursday and Trewlove looked at each other knowing that Morse's brain was ticking over.

"Cambridge… Ava… the Master," he said to himself. "Ava came from Singapore, but she said that they settled in London briefly, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did," Thursday answered. Morse began to think again. He remembered the map inside the wallet Monica gave him, the style of map. His mind wandered over to the red dotted marker, and finally he got it.

"Singapore! The marker on the map!"

"Map? What map? Morse?"

"I found a map." He covered for Monica. "It was inside a wallet I found nearby. No one could have spotted it at the time, sir." Thursday knew Morse concealed evidence but chose to overlook it. "It was a map of the world, the kind that is used in schools. There was a red marker over Singapore. I think she was trying to show someone where she was from." Morse then looked up as something clicked. He walked over to the board again and picked off the photo of the Cruickshank address.

 _Miss_ _C. Cruickshank… the London address… Ava's past… Cambridge… London… the map… the missing certificate… the Latin messages… the Bodleian… the university motto… the history library... the librarian… the missing book… Allenby… politics… the note… the first note from Ava!_

Morse ran back to his desk to collect the forensics envelope. He tore it open and took out the picture of the letter found in the Master's room. He shone it up against the light and there… Right there amongst everything, he saw something - that one vital clue that confirmed to him the killer's identity. He sensed the immediate danger Ava was in.

"Sir, get some back up and follow me!" He grabbed his suit jacket and made his way to the door.

"Morse?"

"Please, sir!" Morse said desperately. "We haven't got much time!" He ran out. Thursday picked up the phone immediately and Trewlove ran out to find Strange.

* * *

Three cars came to halt in the field outside the abandoned building and Morse got out of his car, Thursday following him. He called out for Ava but heard nothing. Thursday directed the uniformed officers around the back and sides of the building, but slowly and silently. Their torches were to be kept at a low angle so not to spook whoever was holding Ava inside. He nodded at Morse, and he walked slowly up the steps and pushed open the creaky front door.

He looked around and found the interior to be bigger and more open than the impression the exterior gave. He used the torchlight from outside to guide him. With each footstep, the floorboards creaked. Morse crept carefully across, all the time calling for Ava, and each time was greeted with silence.

He suddenly heard a muffled noise and called for Ava again. He walked carefully through a room looking at the high beams above him and the badly boarded up windows that allowed shafts of light to poke though.

"Morse!" He heard Ava's echo calling him.

"Ava!"

"Help me! Morse!"

"Ava! Where are you?" The pressure was now on Morse. He tried to pick out the direction the voice came from, but such as empty and hollow the building was she could be anywhere. The sound of Strange calling him got his attention and he followed his voice. He walked inside a huge empty space towards the back of the building, and Strange shone his torch upwards. Morse saw Ava being held in a chokehold on top of a very narrow platform above him. There were some old gym mats not far below and what looked like rusty machinery to the left behind her. Morse shuddered as he saw a hangman's noose swinging in front of Ava.

"Morse!" Ava tried to scream. The grip around her neck grew tighter.

"Catherine!" Morse shouted at the dark figure in the shadows that was holding her. "Catherine Cruickshank!" Movement was heard and the dark clothed figure of Katie Kinsella came into view. She was holding a blood stained knife to Ava's throat.

"Detective Sergeant Morse!" she said nastily. "Glad you decided to show up. Coming to rescue your perfect little girlfriend, are you?" She tightened her grip and Ava tried hard to loosen it for air.

"Let her go," Morse said outstretching his hand. "Come on, Catherine. This won't solve anything."

"Oh, won't it!" Katie made a sharp move and the wooden platform creaked. Morse noticed it wasn't secure and could break at any minute sending both to their deaths. He turned his attentions back to Katie. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to put things together!"

"What did she do wrong to you, Catherine? You befriended each other when she arrived in London. You grew up together. She showed you on the map where she was from."

"'Grew up together'?" Katie scoffed at what she heard. "What?! 18 bloody months! That meant nothing! She didn't have to tell me where bloody Singapore was! I was a year older than her! I knew! She was so smug. But, she was as poor and struggling as we all were back then!" She pressed the knife against Ava's throat and once again Morse glanced at the weak platform.

"Come down, Catherine." He tried again. "Let her go. We can talk about this down at the station."

"SHUT UP!" She smirked. "So you can be reunited with your love? I don't think so. This one doesn't deserve to be happy; and the NAME'S KATIE! KATIE KINSELLA!" She pushed Ava and they shuffled towards the noose. Ava looked at Morse absolutely petrified. Morse became nervous, but he tried to call Katie's bluff by staying calm. Thursday ran in with Trewlove and a couple of officer. They stood stock still by what they saw above them. Katie started laughing. "Oh, here comes the bloody cavalry! Nice of you to join us, Detective Chief Inspector Thursday!" Morse gave him a signal to approach with caution.

"Why did you kill the Master?" he asked. "What was that going to achieve?"

"That bastard was a complete fool!" Katie hissed. "He chose Ava. He always had a soft spot for exoticism. It makes you sick!"

"So why did you lie when you told us how much he doted on you? You made it all up, didn't you?"

"I was just as clever!" Katie shouted. " _I_ was meant to be his prodigy! _I_ deserved that place, not her. Why, because she was different than everyone else? That she was a poor evacuee from the War and therefore we should all feel sorry for her? Well, what about me? I am from here! I deserved it more than _she!_ "

"But you got into Oxford, Catherine."

"You don't get it do you, Morse! I went for the same degree as Miss Prissy here. Took the exam, did the assessment. But I didn't get in because he used his contacts to fast-track this bitch in!" She made another sudden movement and the platform once again creaked. Thursday directed his officers maintain their position. "I hated her!" Katie continued, spite in her eyes. "I decided to go there to try and get her expelled. I tried to persuade everyone that she was a Commie. But again, that bloody Dorchester-Baynes saved the day."

"It was your Cambridge rejection letter we found in his office, wasn't it?"

"Morse!" Ava screamed as the platform nearly gave way. Morse rushed forward but it just about held together.

"He had to be held accountable!" Katie spat, her tone becoming more and more menacing. "He couldn't reject me for the second time! I had to remind him who I was and that he wasn't going to get away with it!"

"What about that girl that was found by the ditch?"

"Oh, she was just some poor, pathetic orphaned wreck I befriended in a pub one evening. I chose her because she looked like me. Nothing more, nothing less. We went to a club. I saw one boy taking a fancy to her. After allowing him a drunken fumble, he was more or less putty in my hands. I paid him a fiver to do it." Morse realised it was the kid that found her. "I wanted to see you suffer!" she hissed in Ava's ear. "But then you had to get involved with _him,_ didn't you! Your _darling detective sergeant!_ I should have made a better effort on you, Morse!" she shouted at him. "Made sure you never left the hospital!" She forced Ava to shuffle closer to the noose. Ava noticed Strange had a gun and gave Morse signals pointing with her eyes. Morse took a quick glance.

"I just wanted you dead, couldn't you see!" Katie dragged the blade across Ava's cheek. " _You_ stole my degree. _You_ got me kicked out of the faculty. _You_ forced me to change subjects. What a mentor you were, Ava bloody Lockwood!" She tried to kick Ava into moving, but she stayed her ground. "Move!"

"What about the Latin?" Morse asked, his nerves starting to get the better of him.

"Detective Sergeant, I studied theology. Latin was on the curriculum! Come on, you're an old boy! You should know!"

"Ava doesn't understand Latin, Catherine. It isn't one of the theology languages taught at Cambridge." He saw Katie's eyes widen a bit. Ava felt her flinch and gave Morse a look to carry on along those lines. She began to loosen up. Trewlove walked forward.

"Katie? My name is Shirley. Shirley Trewlove. I hear what you say. It is hard making your mark when there are so many obstacles in your way. It's disheartening when you face rejection when you try so hard! I also know how it feels when you are so desperate to be noticed, but that one person you want so much to doesn't." She took a quick look at Morse. Katie looked at Trewlove, her words resonating with her. Her grip on Ava relaxed a bit more. "Come on, Katie," she said kindly. "Let Ava go."

"You poor deluded soul," Katie said bordering on the verge of mocking her. "You really have a lot to learn." Her face suddenly hardened and her grip on Ava tightened. Thursday noticed Ava's eyes still in the direction of the firearm.

"Did you take the book from the history library, Catherine?" Morse asked trying to distract her. "The one I was looking for?"

"You're a clever man, Morse. It is true what they say about you." Thursday watched Ava's movements and once again glanced at the firearm. He made a move to reach for it when the time was right. "I knew you would find out about the shroud and that stupid motto. That man claimed to be religious, but he had no idea what that meant!"

Thursday's fingers moved towards the gun. Morse took a quick look and saw the platform was about to give way.

"NOW, AVA!" he screamed. Ava kicked Katie in the knee throwing her off balance and there was a scuffle, both girls teetering very close to the edge. Ava grabbed Katie and both girls stared into each other's eyes, their childhood friendship briefly returning. Thursday grabbed the gun and fired as Ava threw her over. The shot rang out and Katie fell downwards, hitting the cold ground below.

At that moment, the platform broke in two. Morse dived towards Ava as she plummeted screaming, and managed to catch her as she landed, the gym mats breaking their fall. He held her tightly as she clutched him sobbing.

"It's all right, Ava. It's over." Ava began to cry, a mixture of shock and relief, as one by one the officers poured inside, Thursday giving instructions. Morse gently brought Ava to her feet and they slowly walked out. They both stopped briefly by Thursday. Ava looked gratefully at him, part also in forgiveness. Thursday politely nodded once in reply, and she and Morse left, passing the dead body of Katie, the shouts and calls of the officers filling the building.

* * *

Applause filled the concert hall as the choir finished another beautiful piece. It died down gradually as Ava stepped forward, standing in front of the stage with the choir and the choirmaster behind her. She looked behind at him to get her cue, and once got the nod, took a deep breath and began to sing. She sang so beautifully, without a break in her voice. It was like nothing had happened. Her hair was quickly brushed and fell on her shoulders, her black dress immaculate. The only thing that stood out was that she was barefoot, some cuts and bruises slightly visible. Her gold necklace and pendant shone against the light. The audience listened attentively, marvelling at this talent unbeknown to them the traumatic events that had taken place beforehand. Her performance was flawless, and when she finished, received cheers before the applause started up again louder than before. A tear ran down Ava's cheek and she bowed, resulting in a huge standing ovation. She smiled and mouthed her thanks to everyone, bowing one more time. Her eyes picked up on Morse and Allenby in the front row, who were on their feet applauding loudly, the cheers in the hall becoming deafening. Ava and Morse looked at each other, the latter proud as punch and the previous grateful. She wiped another tear away with her finger before walking back to take her place in the choir, her job done.

* * *

Reginald Bright listened in shock at Thursday as he reported back to him. Oxford was bright and sunny, and his office soaked it up. He listened as he took in the reasons behind Katie's motives, her real identity, her envy of Ava, and how much she blamed Dorchester-Baynes for ruining her ticket out of poverty. He explained about the Latin messages, the murders of the two girls, and that he arrested Malcolm Rothschild for the first girl's murder and her battery. Bright shook his head trying to take it all in and sat down. He poured a drink for himself and offered one to Thursday, who this time accepted.

"All this because she was jealous?" he asked. "That is a sad state of affairs."

"Catherine Cruickshank wanted revenge, sir," Thursday said thinking of the Tapestry. "She killed Dorchester-Baynes because she hated him. She hated Ava because she was an evacuee who wanted a new life, and she was leading the life she thought was meant to be hers."

"But Ava hated Richard."

"Yes, but she wanted him to leave via whistleblowing and not solely from that dossier. She didn't want to kill him. No matter what, he was central to Ava's educational success. I think deep down she knew and was always going to be grateful."

Bright was still struggling to take it all in. "What about the second girl, this Deirdre Anderson?"

"A case of the wrong place at the wrong time. She went back presumably to pick up some things she left behind. She recognised Catherine, feared for her life just in case word got back to the Master she had returned. Catherine pushed her out of the window. Her parents identified some of her items amongst the evidence we picked up."

"And the ring?"

"Rothschild admitted to theft. He thought it belonged to the first victim. He discarded it thinking it was a piece of old junk."

"And what about Morse? How is Ava?"

"Morse is with Ava in Cambridge. There is a senior lecturer position going there, and she has gone for a panel interview."

"Poor Morse." Bright looked at Thursday.

"Oh, they are very much still together, sir."

"Not because of that! I mean an Oxford boy courting someone from _Cambridge?!_ That is bordering on the verge of sacrilege!" Thursday chuckled. He finished off his drink and made his move to leave. "Fred?"

"Yes, sir?" Thursday turned to look at him.

"I think it's time, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. I'll let him know." Thursday opened the door and left. "Oh, sir? I never asked how you obtained that dossier." Bright thoughtfully placed the glass to his lips.

"'Interception', Thursday. It is called 'interception'." Thursday nodded and left. Bright looked at an old Army picture of him and Dorchester-Baynes that was on a frame at his desk. "Here's to you, old boy," he said. He raised his glass and took a sip.

* * *

A month passed. At the university, a new theology Master was voted in and led the students in a more relaxed atmosphere with fairness and with compassion. In turn the students thrived. Ava passed her interview at Cambridge with flying colours and devised her own fun method of lecturing to get the students more involved to heighten their interest and enthusiasm to learn, and in turn became a very popular member of staff. She took her place at High Table in the packed dinner hall with the senior members of the faculty and adjoining colleges and only then did it come full circle.

* * *

Morse on the other hand was back at work at his desk pondering over a case file that was dropped off earlier that morning. He was miles away however, the events of the disused building still affecting him. Thursday noticed his pensive stance from his office and knocked on the window to call him in.

"Sir?"

"Come in, Morse. Close the door and take a seat."

"Thank you, sir." Morse obliged. He wondered what Thursday had in store for him.

"Bright thinks it's about time you too become a mentor."

"Sir?" Morse didn't like the sound of that. He was used to doing things by himself. He could also tell that Thursday wasn't full of the joys of spring with this either.

"Bright reassures me he is keen and willing to learn. He has not long become a detective constable. He will arrive soon."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Morse tried to hide his disapproval. He noticed Thursday taking out a folder that was lying inside a tray on his desk. "Sir, I was wondering. I have leave coming up…" He watched as Thursday took out a piece of paper and laid it down in front of him.

"I signed you off already. You deserve it, Morse."

Morse took a pen from a pot and signed his name. A full seven days. Perfect for what he had in mind.

"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully.

"You went through a lot that night, both of you." Thursday was now all serious as he picked up the paper and placed it back in the folder. "She is a lovely girl, Morse. You deserve each other."

"Thank you, sir." He stood up to leave.

"Oh, Morse?" He turned. "If you are going to take her to Liverpool, make sure you bring back a Beatles souvenir otherwise I won't hear the last of it from Win." Morse forced himself to break into a smile.

"Yes, sir." Thursday shook his head slowly at the silliness of it all as Morse left. He looked at the annual leave form and knew he was going to miss his star sergeant, but deep down he knew it was about time he was happy with someone. His eyes strayed to the framed picture of Joanie and he stared at it for a while.

"If only things were different, sweetheart," he said stroking her cheek. He then got back to business and closed the folder placing it back in the tray.

* * *

Late morning in Oxford brought with it a dull grey sky. It looked cold and miserable. Morse closed the door of the car and walked slowly up the street. He was in a tracksuit with a white T-shirt underneath, the jacket zipped up the whole way. He felt a chill suddenly and shoved his hands into his pockets. He arrived at the highest point as the road hit a high curve and paused to watch the railway tracks in the distance. A train arrived slowly, coming to a halt as it docked into the station. He saw her get off with her case and walk up the path, going through the exit, her face lighting up as she saw him. He saw her smile with joy as she came into view, and he walked over to meet her halfway. Ava dropped her case and ran the couple of steps into his arms. Morse held her tightly, overjoyed to see her after a short time apart.

"I've missed you," she told him. Morse said nothing. He was just so happy to feel her presence again. She looked up and they kissed each other.

"How is my star lecturer?" he asked kissing her again.

"I'm good," Ava replied. Morse planted a small kiss on the top of her nose. "The full seven days?" she asked.

"The full seven days." Ava squealed in delight and Morse walked over to pick up her case. Both of them were now officially on leave and they just could not wait to spend those seven days together. They walked the short distance to the car and Ava got in as Morse placed her luggage on the back seat. She got herself comfortable.

"So, where will you be taking me?" she asked excitedly.

"You'll see," Morse said turning the key in the ignition. "It's a surprise."

"I have a surprise for you too, Endeavour."

Morse looked at her wondering what it could be. "Like what?" he asked.

"I'll tell you later. But first, let's just go home." Ava bit her lip in excitement as they drove off down the street. Morse took a quick look at Ava, who was looking out on to the road ahead, and still couldn't believe his luck! Finally, he had a girl who not only matched him in intelligence but was also gorgeous. Most importantly, she reciprocated his feelings towards her. They turned a corner passing the colleges, the buildings a long and distant memory. She looked at Morse as he reached over to take her hand, leaning over slightly to kiss it. They smiled lovingly at each other as they drove past the shopping district. Almost immediately, Ava asked him to stop, wanting to go inside a clothes store on the opposite side of the road. Morse parked safely nearby and she got out.

"I won't be long I promise," she told him as she looked both ways before running across. Morse got out for some air to wait for her. He saw her point to a lovely blue dress in the window before running inside, but not before turning back to blow him a kiss. Morse was only too happy to return it with a smile before turning, his back leaning against the car.

It wasn't long before he heard the sirens in the distance. Morse didn't take any notice of it as it seemed it wouldn't pass him by; and if it did, it would not bother him. After all, he was now on leave. But something got his back up as the sirens grew louder, and as he looked down the street, he saw around four squad cars speeding in his direction. In the front car was Jim Strange with a uniformed officer at the wheel. Morse now grew worried as they got closer. He then saw Strange violently pointing at the building and waving his hand for him to get down. Morse took note of the panicked look on his colleague's face, and then and only then realised what was going on. He turned to look towards the entrance of the shop and things started happening for him muted and in slow motion…

Morse ran past the front of his car screaming Ava's name. The squad car screeched to a halt and Strange ran out to grab him to stop him from going further. Morse tried to fight him off, and nearly succeeded, when suddenly an explosion went off from inside sending them both to the ground as glass and debris flew all over the pavement and into the street. Morse screamed in horror. He cried out Ava's name in agony, the tears rushing down his face. Thursday ran from his squad car to drag him away as Strange and the other officers ran over to the scene. Morse was still screaming and he would not stop screaming Ava's name. Thursday tried to force him to look away but was powerless. The fire brigade and ambulances arrived not long after. Morse was still in tears, still suffering, and he clutched his superior tightly as he held him. He felt Thursday wave instructions to his officers and stared into space, the shock setting in. One by one, the firefighters ran inside, some coming out with dead bodies. The scene was a mess, and no one could envisage something like this happening in Oxford, the City of Spires. Real time set in for Morse as he now heard the approaching sirens becoming louder but all he could think about was Ava. He collapsed in a heap on the ground.

* * *

The Oxford Mail ran a breaking news front page reprint of the events that morning. The headline read: **'Terrorism Hits Oxford'** with a sub headline: **'Police receives coded warning. A yet unidentified dissident group admits bomb attack at city centre clothes store. 20 people dead with many more injured'**.

The hospital was put on high alert. Nurses and doctors rushed up and down the corridors taking care of the walking wounded as they came in. Shirley Trewlove had arrived on instructions from Bright. She was told to wait for Thursday who was going to collect Morse. She saw him walk through a door a porter held open for him, and stood up. Like everyone else, she was visibly shaken by the bomb attack.

"Are you all right, sir?" she asked.

"I am telling you this in the strictest confidence, Trewlove," Thursday told her looking at a closed door in the distance. "Under no circumstances do you disclose this to anyone."

Trewlove feared the worst. "Of course, sir," she said. Her eyes widened as Thursday whispered in her ear. He then walked off ahead, knocking on the door and going in. Minutes later, they walked out, Thursday guiding Morse who was in a worse state of shock. Trewlove noticed how much of a state Morse was in: his tracksuit was matted in dust, his hair was all over the place, his eyes red and bloodshot from crying. It was seeing him like this that brought tears to her eyes. She watched as the two officers passed her and called out his name. Morse turned as Trewlove ran over. She took off her hat and glanced at Thursday. Morse forced himself to respond as Trewlove gave him a hug.

"I am so sorry," she whispered. Morse reached inside his pocket to give her something. He pressed it into the palm of her hand, the way Ava did to him.

"For you, Trewlove," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I won't need them anymore." He and Thursday walked slowly away. Trewlove looked at what Morse had given her and gasped with her hand over her mouth – he had given her two First Class train tickets to Liverpool. She turned her head to look at the doors where they had walked through, the tears running down her face.

* * *

Thursday brought Morse to a room in another part of the hospital complex where they stopped in front of a closed door. The lights from the ceiling gave the grey walls a brighter hue which in turn gave the atmosphere a quiet and melancholy feel. Morse stared at the door and knew. He didn't flinch. Thursday looked at him, unsure if this decision was the right one.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Morse?" he asked, concerned for his welfare.

"Yes, sir," Morse replied, his voice now more or less gone. Thursday sighed heavily and opened the door, letting him know he will be outside and to take his time. He watched as Morse walked inside and waited until he was further in before he gently closed the door.

* * *

The room was slightly dark and quiet. The curtains were part drawn leaving a gap for light. Morse dragged his feet to the foot of the bed and looked at the occupant. Ava was lying there in the clothes she was dressed in. She was in an angelic state and still very much beautiful. Even in death, she looked the same as she was alive and this upset Morse even further. He took tiny steps towards a chair by the right hand bedside, the sound of his socked feet making swishing noises along the immaculately clean floor. He stopped to gently place his hand on her belly, bending down to plant a kiss before reaching over to gently clear the dark and matted hair from Ava's face. Her skin was full of cuts and shredded flesh, and her lips were split and pale. Morse wiped his tears angrily with his sleeve as he leaned over to kiss her forehead, his lips touching her now rough skin, and he stayed like that for a short while. He eventually sat down on the chair and held her left hand in both of his, looking straight at her, and he began to remember...

He remembered when they first met in the pouring rain and how he was instantly attracted to her. He remembered the first proper conversation they had in her room, the way she looked at him through the strands of her hair, the way she played him at his own game when he refused to disclose his name. He remembered the first time he eventually told her what it was, the wonder in her eyes upon hearing it, the way his heart jumped for joy whenever she called him by it. He kept hearing her say it, over and over…

He remembered when he took her out on their first date, how the dress and white blouse she wore just made her completely stunning. He loved her cute white boots, but most of all he loved her. He remembered when he first made love to her, how intense it was; the intimacy.

He remembered the anguish he felt when he saw Katie subduing her in a chokehold on that wooden platform. He remembered Ava throwing Katie in the direction of the shot from Thursday that finally killed her, the platform breaking and how he dived towards her, saving her as she fell downwards. He loved her bravery. He loved every part of her. Finally, he remembered the solo piece she sung, even after everything that happened, because she felt she had an obligation – a promise to keep – and that made him feel damn proud. He doubted he would meet anyone like her ever again.

Morse thought about the ring box he kept hidden back at the flat, a ring he bought the same time as her pendant. He was going to propose to her the day they hit Liverpool, the place she always wanted to visit. He imagined the look of joy on her face as he gets down on one knee to ask. He then thought about their future, that that was the surprise she was going to tell him, and how he would be completely over the moon!

He knew she would have a Cambridge funeral and he knew he would be attending. He hated the thought, and he hated the knowledge that would be the last time he would ever see her. The tears fell again from his eyes and again he wiped them clean with his sleeve.

These thoughts eventually led him to wonder why he was so unlucky and how he was perhaps always meant to live a lonely, miserable existence. First Susie, then Monica, then Joanie and now Ava. Ava… the one person who, as his wife, would finally eradicate memories of his parents' unhappy marriage. Why! Oh, why did it always have to fuck up!

Finally, he thought of the irony. The _sick_ irony that she left her home to escape war - only to die at the hands of another form of terrorism. This made Morse grow bitter.

It was then he made a vow to himself – he vowed never to get close to anyone ever again. He vowed never to reveal his first name to anyone no matter what. He vowed never, _ever_ to show his feelings and he vowed there and then to be married to the job. But as he played Ava's final moment in his head, the kiss she blew to him as she ran inside the store, before she was cruelly taken away from him became too much to bear and he began to weep, mourning the loss of his beautiful Ava and their future. Morse kissed Ava's hand hard with all his might and he bowed his head, his forehead touching the skin of her fingers. His left hand reached over to rest on her belly; the sound of his grief cutting through the silence of the slightly dark and quiet room...


End file.
